The Price of Immortality
by Rookblonkorules
Summary: The BAU heads to California to profile a killer with an unspecified vendetta against them. However, when two of their own disappear, it becomes clear that the true threat they're facing is nothing like they could have expected. Now, the team must band together to stop a very determined enemy with an endgame far deadlier than anything they could have imagined. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Description:** The BAU heads to California to profile a killer with an unspecified vendetta against them. However, when two of their own disappear, it becomes clear that the true threat they're facing is nothing like they could have expected. Now, the team must band together to stop a very determined enemy with an endgame far deadlier than anything they could have imagined.

 **Note:** This is a collaboration with my friend and fellow CM/Spencer Reid fan, StarShadow, as well as our first attempt at writing these characters (and our first attempt at working together), so we're... slightly nervous as to how this turned out. We've been working on it since a little after Christmas (and we've even accidently deleted and then recovered the entire story), but we decided that we're finally ready to start publishing the chapters that we have now.

We imagine this story taking place in late season two, somewhere between Legacy and No Way Out: The Evilution of Frank. Take your pick.

 **Pairings:** Slight Morcia/Penederek.

 **Warnings:** Blood, death imagery, creepy unsub being creepy, eventual whump in later chapters.

* * *

"Immortality- a fate worse than death." Edgar A. Shoaff

* * *

 _Bakersfield, California_

* * *

It was a particularly warm spring night in Bakersfield, California. The moon's sparse light gleamed down on a tiny road in the country.

The light traffic of the day had all swiftly vanished at sunset; only a few isolated figures creeped about in the stiff, humid stillness that evening brought.

A lonely jogger broke through the thick air, her shoes pounding on the still-warm asphalt.

Tears blurred her vision, only allowing her to see a few feet in front of her.

"I… deserve better...than him," she gasped out, as if saying it would make the sting of her fiance's betrayal any less painful.

"And… as for that witch of a woman… she can _have_ him! She just… did me… a favor."

Inexplicably, that didn't help either.

The poor girl stopped running as a gentle rain began, crowning her bowed head with water droplets.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she started trudging home.

It was getting late, and she had quite a ways to go.

/

He struck, quickly and without warning.

He clapped his hand around her mouth, pinning her arms to her side, yanking her into an empty alleyway.

She struggled, but His grip on her arms was too tight. Silly thing. Resistance was futile.

She tried to scream, the sound muffled and terrified.

He couldn't have that.

This one couldn't be like the other two; both their heads had been bashed in, although one had only been rendered unconscious. That one had to be cut as well.

Perhaps He could ask His Beloved if there was a cleaner way to fulfill Her desires, one that required less killing.

Murder was exhausting.

And this? This wasn't fine murder, which required skill and intelligence.

This was practically mugging.

Anyone could do it.

He had great distaste for it. His Dear One had requested it, however, so it must be done.

The girl's pleading blue eyes met His desperately.

His hand still held firm over her mouth, he drew the knife across her throat, a movement quick, brutal and efficient.

He lowered the now bloodied knife, watching in morbid fascination as the life drained out of her eyes.

She was dead.

Her blood mingled with the rain.

Soon, all traces of his crime would be washed away.

With a self-satisfied smile, He picked up her limp body and threw it over His shoulder.

With a wink toward Northeast, which was His Soulmate's general direction from Him, He departed toward Virginia Street.

The rain poured down in sheets, cloaking His departure.

It was as if the sky itself was weeping.

He imagined that it wept for Their separation.

"I'll be home soon, My Darling," He crooned, looking in Her direction once more. "Don't fret. I'll be back as soon as I'm done with _this_." He gestured to the body on his shoulder.

Roughly three thousand miles away, She smiled, knowing that He was talking to her.

Or at least, He imagined She did.

* * *

 _FBI Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia_

* * *

"And that's how it's done?" Morgan sounded skeptical. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

"That's how it's done," Garcia confirmed, delighted by his disbelief, rather than offended by it.

"Nu uh." Morgan shook his head. "You're just messing with me here."  
"I'm not!" Garcia giggled. She flicked his arm playfully. "Don't insult my genius."

"Okay, okay." Morgan held up his hands, chuckling. "I wouldn't dream of it."  
Appeased, Garcia leaned back in her chair, nibbling the end of her pen. It was pink and glittery, with what looked like soft, pink feathers streaming from the cap.

Morgan never quite understood her tastes when it came to these things, especially not when a practical ballpoint pen would work just as well, but then that was Penelope Garcia for you.

Flamboyant. Warm. Brilliant.

Beautiful.

His girl.

"You've got your thinking face on. Don't tell me all that mental work broke you, hot stuff," Garcia said.

She pulled the pen from her mouth and jabbed it at him like a teacher's pointer. Or maybe a magic wand.

And knowing Garcia, the latter was always the more likely.

Morgan shook his head, grinning. "Takes a lot more than that to break me, baby girl."

"Mmhmm." Garcia nodded right along with him. "You sure about that?"

"Hang on… are you saying you think you _did_ break me?"

Penelope cocked her head, teasing. "I…"

A rap sounded at the door, despite its being open. Penelope jumped and Morgan spun his chair around languidly as Gideon barged in, without waiting for an answer.

"Hey!" Garcia tapped the pen against her thumb, her mouth dipped downward in disapproval. "This zone is private, restricted, off limits without a pass."

"I have a pass," Gideon said dismissively, focusing his attention on Morgan instead. "You're needed in the conference room. We have a case."

Morgan blinked. "We do? When did that happen?"

"About two minutes ago." Gideon spared Garcia a glance. "We're going to need you on this one."  
Penelope slouched back in her chair. "Sure," she said, disappointed that their fun had been cut short. "That's what I'm here for. Tell me, what manner of creepazoid am I digging for this time?"  
 _And they'd been having such a good time too._

"We don't know that yet."

Garcia let out a noisy sigh. "Let me know when you do."

Ever focused on his work, Gideon nodded once and turned his back and left the room. Morgan stretched out his legs, before standing to follow him.

"Come back to me," Penelope said, reaching her hand out to him.

He took it, giving it a light squeeze. "Always."

She smiled. "They don't stand a chance."  
Morgan grinned, wide and genuine. "They never do." He pulled his hand away and departed.

Penelope shook her head, turning back to her computer screens. "Why do they always come in at the worst of times?" She frowned.

But then she smiled, leaning back, and tapped the end of the pen against her lips. Whoever this unsub was, they were going to regret messing with _her_ team before the week was up.

* * *

"So what do we have?" Morgan asked, taking his seat at the table.

The rest of the team was already present. Reid acknowledged him with a nod and a small smile before his attention shifted to JJ.

The blonde agent, neat and pristine as always, stood at the head of the table, a manila folder in one hand, a remote in the other.

Once she was satisfied she had their attention, she pressed a button on the remote, directing their eyes toward the screen behind her.

Immediately, the images of several crime scenes appeared.

"An hour ago, we received these photos from the police in Bakersfield, California," she said, taking a step back.

Morgan narrowed his eyes. There were three bodies, two men of different ages and a young woman.

They were positioned on their backs, eyes staring sightlessly at the sky above them. They had been tossed carelessly on the street, as if they were something less than human.

The woman's hair surrounded her head on the sidewalk like a halo of black clouds, lending her an air of dignity that her position and terrified expression would rob her of.

Two of the victims, the woman and the younger man, had ugly, gaping wounds gashed across their throats. They'd been slit. No marks were present on the other victim.

Aside from that, it didn't seem like they had anything in common. The woman was obviously young. Her skin still had a faint olive tone to it, now cloaked by the pallor of death. She wasn't the type of beauty that turned heads, but she was attractive in her own way. Morgan felt a pang of regret for the promising future that had been ripped away from her.

No matter how many years he'd been on the job, the sight still hadn't gotten any easier to bear.

He averted his eyes and turned his attention on the other two victims. The only thing these two had in common, upon first glance, was their gender.

The first man was young, white, and clean shaven. He appeared to be in his mid twenties. His clothing, simple but good quality, indicated that he was from a family of some prestige.

The second man's skin was far darker than that of his partner in victimhood, acquired by genetics as well as the scorching of the California sun. Several days' worth of stubble covered the lower half of his face, which had a long, thick scar stretching from the man's ear to just under his chin. The man's face was weathered and pockmarked to an extreme; any exposed flesh was wrinkled like poorly cared-for leather.

JJ clicked the button on her remote once more, causing three images, more disturbing than the first, to blink into view.

They were closeups of the victims' abdomens. A letter had been carved into each one.

 _B, A, U._

"BAU," Morgan said flatly. "He carved BAU into his victims."  
"He's trying to get attention," Reid observed. "He wants the FBI involved."

"But why?" Hotch studied the images, brows drawn low over his eyes.

Gideon shifted in his seat. "What do we know about each of the victims?"

JJ directed the screen, pulling up the photos of the first victim, the black man.

"The first victim's name was Vincent Davis. Fifty-seven. Apparently, he was homeless. No family who would miss him." Her expression was carefully neutral, skillfully hiding whatever she felt on the inside. "Coroner says the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. His body was then transported to the location where it was discovered the next morning."

The images changed to the photographs of the younger man's body.

"The second victim was found two days later. Same location. His name was Ethan Bedford. Twenty-two years old. He was a student at Bakersfield University. According to the report, he was walking home from a party when the unsub attacked him. Same as the first victim, our unsub used blunt force trauma to the head, only this time, the victim's throat was cut when the initial blow failed to kill him."

Now she looked slightly ill.

Again, the pictures changed to show the third victim, the young woman.

"And our final victim. Clara Hepburn." JJ paused. Morgan could see the muscles in her throat working as she swallowed before continuing. "She was twenty-nine. No sign of any blunt force trauma." JJ let out a breath. "The unsub simply slit her throat, same as the second victim."

Another click of the button, and the team was seeing the photographs of the victims' abdomens again.

 _BAU._

The letters glared accusingly at them. _This is your fault. You caused us to die._

 _You've failed us._

"The first two bodies were left on Virginia Avenue," JJ continued. "Right out in the open. The residents found each body the morning after the murder occurred."

"Virginia Avenue," Emily Prentiss scoffed. "As if he couldn't get more obvious."

JJ fixed her with a sharp look. "He did. The third body was found on Quantico Avenue, which, for those of us who don't know," she cast a sidelong glance at Reid, "happens to intersect Virginia Avenue."

"He just happened to find the only place in California where a street named Quantico intersects a street named Virginia?" Morgan asked, incredulous.

"The only place in _America_ ," Reid corrected. Morgan gave him a good-natured glare.

"He was about as obvious as he could be, short of showing up at our door," Gideon said. "This unsub must be desperate."

"Desperate doesn't even begin to describe it. Do you know how much dedication it takes to find and travel to the only place in America where this anomaly occurs? _Nevermind_ set up and execute plans for murder there. I don't think we've ever dealt with an unsub who had this level of overkill." Reid turned to Gideon, eyes glimmering with worry.

"He's confident to the point of arrogance." Gideon's expression remained withdrawn, thoughtful. "This," he waved his hand at the display, "is all for one purpose: to be noticed by us. He's leaving the bodies out in the open, on meticulously chosen streets. Everything is planned to a fault. So why are the victims killed so arbitrarily? It's as if he just picked them off the streets. If his plan is to kill in order to draw our attention, his execution is uncharacteristically simple."

"He's obviously just trying to get our attention. At this point, location and execution doesn't really matter. The fact that it's in California isn't nearly as important as the fact that it happened on this particular intersection. The way that the victims were murdered isn't as important as the fact that they were murdered at all," Prentiss gathered.

Morgan and Reid nodded in agreement.

"This is a clear slap in the face to the BAU," Hotchner commented darkly. "He's challenging us directly. Not even a 'catch me if you can.' This is more than that. A personal invite. We… are the reason for his crime."

The team stared at each other. Hotch's words hung in the air ominously.

JJ cleared her throat.

"Guys, there's more," she said, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Clara Hepburn was found clutching a note." She slipped a sheet of paper from the folder. "The BPD faxed a copy to me this morning. It's addressed to us; or, well," she corrected herself, "some of us."

She passed the note off to the nearest agent.

Reid took it from her hands and frowned, reading aloud, " _Agents Hotchner, Gideon, Prentiss and Morgan; I eagerly await your arrival. If anyone I have not named accompanies you on this journey, more will die. If you leave anyone I have named behind, more will die_."

He paused, glancing up at everyone. " _Hurry._ " Reid placed the note on the table, sliding it forward. "He… doesn't say anything else."

Gideon reached for the note, pulling it towards him.

"He's specifically asking for the four of us," Hotch said, his eyes traveling the room, "and no one else. Why the four of us?" He looked at Reid and JJ. "And why not the two of you?"  
Morgan shook his head. Something was wrong here. And that something wrong went beyond the murder of three innocent people. "He has something against us personally?" he suggested. "A relative of someone we helped put away in the past?"

"Maybe somebody we _did_ put away in the past that just recently got out?" Reid offered.

"It's worth investigating," Hotch said with a short nod.

Prentiss fidgeted uncomfortably. She had picked up the note and was staring at it as if it were a death warrant. "I… I haven't been here for very long. If it was someone from your past, why ask for me?" She looked at everyone in turn, searching for an answer. None of them could provide her with one.

Morgan sighed. The team was coming up with more questions than answers. "Okay, maybe he's just including you because he needs another field agent present?"

"We're field agents too, you know," Reid muttered under his breath.

Gideon cleared his throat. "Excluding Prentiss' involvement, can you think of a case the three of us worked, but JJ and Reid didn't?"

Morgan didn't even need to think on that. "No, I can't."

Gideon nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Exactly," he said. "So why does he want us? Us and no one else?"

He looked around the table.

No one had an answer for him.

* * *

 **Another Brief Note:** There really is a location in Bakersfield, California where a Quantico Avenue intersects a Virginia Avenue. Starshadow google mapsed the heck out of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** It tends to be a habit with me to post the first and second chapter within a day of each other. The third chapter should be up on Sunday, Monday at the latest.

* * *

 _Unknown Location_

* * *

"Please pass the potatoes."

There was no response.

" _Pass. The. Potatoes._ Corrie _,_ don't make me ask you again."

Selene frowned at her teenaged daughter. Corrie stared sullenly at her lap, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

Selene huffed. "Fine." She reached over the table to grab the potatoes for herself. "Would you like some, Mom?"

Her elderly mother gave her a pained look. Corrie swallowed hard, then gave Selene a weak nod.

"Of course you would, Mama," Selene crooned. Her mother disliked drama, so it was understandable that she would look unhappy.

"And you, Sweets?" Selene asked her five-year-old son. Andi whimpered. He'd had a long day. She plopped the potatoes into his plate without waiting to hear his response; Andi needed to eat more. He was altogether too thin.

"Corrie, if you refuse to behave, I'll just have to punish you. You wouldn't like to be punished, now, would you?"

Corrie's head snapped up to meet her grandmother's eyes. Her grandmother shook her head almost imperceptibly, begging the fourteen-year-old girl not to do anything foolish.

"No," Corrie whispered, as the fire left her eyes.

"Would you like some potatoes now, Corrie?" Selene asked sweetly.

"Yes please, Mama," she whispered.

Selene spooned some of the creamy mashed potatoes onto her daughter's plate and sat down at her place at the head of the table. She glanced longingly at the vacant seat opposite her.

"I miss Blake," she murmured. "Don't you miss him too, dears?" She met their eyes individually, a sickly-sweet smile decorating her lips.

Corrie and her grandmother held their breath, looking down at the tablecloth.

Selene's expression was stained with a wicked look. An evil force overtook her as if she were possessed.

" _Don't you_?" she thundered, bringing her hands down on the table.

Andi began to sob mutely, face buried in his hands, trying to hide his tears.

For what seemed like hours, the scene remained perfectly still, as the memory of Selene's volatile tone echoed through their brains.

"Well," Selene said slowly, "I never thought my own family could betray me this way. I thought you were here to _protect_ me. But you're only here to make my life _even more_ miserable. Have I not lost enough? Leave me, then, you monsters. Go, you heartless creatures. See if I care." The tiny woman waved her hand dismissively. She turned away from them all.

"Are we really free?" the old woman whispered, hardly daring to hope.

Selene turned her head once more, fixing them with a chilling smile.

She cocked her head to the side.

"No," she said sweetly. She delicately placed her fair little hand over her finely shaped lips. "Oops, you weren't supposed to know that."

The old woman cried out, "Run, Corrie, run!"

But it was too late.

Selene struck.

Somewhere, roughly three thousand miles away, He struck as well.

* * *

 _FBI Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia_

* * *

Agent Hotchner stood in Gideon's office, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

"It would be foolish _not_ to follow the unsub's direction on this. By the time we got there, more people will have been put at risk. He could have hostages. We don't know. We only know what he wants us to know and, so far, that's not much." His brow furrowed.

"So we play right into his hands?" Gideon countered. "This is what he wants. He wants our attention. Why? Why, why, why? What could he possibly want with only the four of us?" He slammed his hand down on the polished wooden desk, hunching forward.

Hotch rubbed his forehead, trying to formulate some sort of plan.

"Look," he began, but Gideon cut him off.

"What functions do JJ and Reid have that he would need to keep away from us?"

Hotch narrowed his eyes, thinking it over. "I… guess… they work as field agents primarily. Reid does a lot of necessary analysis, but the most important evidence can be faxed to him. JJ is the only one with a specialized job that we don't usually handle without her; but even so, a liaison isn't crucial for our functionality."

"So I ask again, what reason would the unsub have to want to keep the two away?" Gideon straightened, spreading his hands.

"I don't know. But I _do_ know that more people are going to die if we keep wasting our time here." Hotch started to leave.

"You're not seriously going along with his demands?" Gideon asked scornfully, a disbelieving smile on his face.

Hotch turned in the doorway, staring him down. "You remember what happened last time we didn't follow an unsub's instructions."

An image of blood flashed into Gideon's mind. Elle's blood. Splattered on the walls, soaking the carpet, used as some morbid form of ink to write a warning.

 _Rules._

They hadn't followed the rules.

Gideon closed his eyes.

Hotch slammed the door on his way out.

* * *

"You're going?"

Penelope frowned, tapping her pen, that obnoxiously bright, eyesore of a pen, against her desk.

Morgan sighed. "You know I gotta, angel eyes."

She smiled a little, but remained serious. "I know," she said. "But he's probably got something waiting for you up there. Some nasty, icky trap."  
"But we're gonna go up there and we're gonna catch him before he can do any more damage." _To us or any innocents he may have his sights on._

It was a promise.

One he had every intention to keep.

He moved as if to leave the room.

Then he stopped.

Turned back around to face her.

She had her back to him, immersing herself in her work.

He couldn't just… leave. Not without a proper goodbye.

"Pen," he called softly.

She turned. "Yeah?"

"I promise. We're gonna be careful."

He wanted to pull her close, let her know that he was there for her.

More than anything, Penelope Garcia thrived on physical contact.

But to do so would feel too much like a permanent

good-bye.

So he didn't.

He left.

* * *

Reid didn't like it. He drummed his fingers against the conference table. The crime scene photos were still on the screen.

JJ hadn't blanked the screen.

The grisly images were still there for all to see.

Three victims.

Nothing in common.

That they knew of.

Two different MOs, with the second victim subdued with a combination of both.

The link between them.

Was that significant?  
He scrunched his brows together.

Was it possible that Ethan Bedford was the link between the two others?

He spoke, "JJ, what do we know about the victims' personal lives?"  
"Um…" JJ flipped through the file. "Not much. We have next to nothing on Vincent Davis, except that he frequented the local soup kitchen. Ethan Bedford was studying for a degree in graphic design at the university. His friends said he was well-liked, easygoing. They couldn't imagine him having enemies of any sort."

She looked up as she said it, before turning the pages.

"Clara Hepburn worked as a barista. And, according to several sources, she liked to go jogging during the late evening hours. We can assume that that was when the unsub grabbed her." She set the folder on the table. "And apparently, she'd just recently broken off her engagement with her fiance of six months."

Reid's ears perked up at the new information. "How recently is recently?"  
"Just a few hours before she was murdered."

A spurned lover. That was definitely a possibility.

Statistically speaking, 37.5 percent of female murder victims were killed by their husbands or lovers.*

But if so, how did that explain the two men?  
There wasn't enough information.

Things weren't adding up.  
"Do the police consider him a potential suspect?"

JJ shook her head. "He was cleared after an hour in police custody. He had a rock solid alibi. Witnesses place him at a club at the time of the murder. The club's security cameras confirmed it. He was there with another woman." JJ gave that time to sink in. "Clara found out he'd been cheating on her before she broke up with him." Her lips were pressed into an angry, thin line.  
From her place beside Reid, Emily muttered, "The rat!"

Reid agreed with her.

* * *

 **Note:** Another necessary setup chapter. Don't worry though. The action will be starting soon enough. ;)

* For the Reid statistic, I visited the FBI Homicide Database and ended up having to stretch the truth a little bit. The information I found was dated from 2010 and the actual quote was: "Of the female murder victims for whom the relationships to their offenders were known, 37.5 percent were murdered by their husbands or boyfriends."

I couldn't find anything more accurate.

Any criticisms/comments and critiques are welcomed and appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** I know I said we'd update on Sunday, but it was a little hard to contain the excitement at having a new story out. That and I wanted to get the last setup chapter out of the way before the real action begins...

This doesn't change anything, however. There will still be a chapter up on Sunday.

 **Warning:** Some innuendos in this chapter. Nothing too explicit, however.

* * *

 _Crime Scene, Bakersfield, California_

* * *

The lead detective in the investigation was one David Callahan and, so far, he had nothing on this case.

The third victim, Clara Hepburn… her fiance ( _ex-_ fiance) had been a long shot. He was ready to call it quits and admit that.

Still, it was the only thing they'd had to go on.

David sighed. He hadn't wanted federal involvement. Not at first.

But there had been the letters carved onto the bodies.

 _BAU._

And the note.

Not to mention they'd had nothing on the guy.

As far as he could see, he hadn't had a choice.

The woman he'd spoken to over the phone, Agent Jareau he thought her name was, had promised results.

He only hoped that her team followed through.

David spun around on his heel, resuming his pacing of the sidewalk.

The agents had wanted to see the crime scene.

 _Scenes_ , he corrected himself. Plural.

It was understandable; how else to get a better idea of what they were dealing with here?

He was sorry to say that there wasn't much here.

The killer had been careful. Extremely so.

He abruptly brought his pacing to a halt when a pair of black SUVs pulled up to the sidewalk.

David faced them, arms crossed, looking every bit the head detective he was supposed to be.

Several officers behind him muttered. He ignored them.

Not everyone in the department had been happy about involving the FBI. It was their case. Their jurisdiction.

Too bad.

In the end, they didn't have a say.

He carefully observed the four agents to emerge. Agents Hotchner, Gideon, Morgan and Prentiss if the note was to be believed.

The two men from the first vehicle, he decided, couldn't be more different. The first was tall, dressed impeccably, with well-chiseled features and a stern expression.

The man next to him was dressed more casually, blue jeans and an open button down shirt over a white t-shirt.

His face was lined, as if he'd seen a lot he'd rather forget. He likely had, considering his job.

Hell, David had seen things he would carry with him to his dying day, and that was in his jurisdiction alone.

He could only imagine.

Oddly enough, it was his expression that seemed the more open out of the two of them.

The second vehicle deposited the last two, a man and woman.

The dark-skinned male looked more like he belonged in the Olympics than in the FBI. Under his shirtsleeves, David could make out the edge of some sort of tattoo.

The woman with him had a sort of no-nonsense look to her, with dark hair that was pulled tightly out of her face and tied at the nape of her neck. Her face was clear, honest. She almost looked out of place among her male colleagues, but David had no doubts that she was a force to be reckoned with.

The first man, the impeccable one, zeroed in on him and strode in his direction. The other three followed his lead.

David stepped forward to meet them, refusing to be intimidated by the authority radiating off the man in front of him.

"Detective Callahan?" the man asked.

David nodded, opening his mouth to give an explanation, a summary of the investigation so far.

The agent in front of him beat him to it, reaching to the inside of his jacket and withdrawing his badge. "Detective Callahan, my name is S.S.A. Hotchner." He gestured to his colleagues, naming them in turn. "With me are S.S.A. Gideon and Special Agents Prentiss and Morgan."

The agents on the note. David remembered. Of course he remembered.

He nodded along with him, eyes meeting those of each agent.

Agent Hotchner tucked the badge away and Callahan used it as an opening to ask his own question.

"This man-he called you out specifically. Do you have any idea why?"

Hotchner stared into his eyes. "No, but that's what we're hoping to find out.."

The more open-faced man, introduced as Agent Gideon, stepped forward. "Detective Callahan, we're going to need you to tell us everything you know about the victim who was discovered here."

David opened his mouth, then shut it again. He simply nodded. "Of course." He turned, waving a hand to encompass the scene before them, sidewalk, crime scene tape and all.

"The body was found here."

He stopped, turning his eyes to the agents.

Gideon stepped forward, head cocked to the was nothing special there.

"Was anything found with the body, Detective Callahan?" he asked.

"Just the note. Were you expecting something else?"

" _Hoping for,_ " Gideon corrected automatically. He folded his hands together. He looked back up. "Who found the body?"

David pivoted, pointing the agents to a small, well-kept house just across the street. A row of flowers lined the neatly trimmed lawn.

"Rose Wilson," he said. "She found the body when she went to take her dog for a walk. Happened to glance out the window." He sighed. "Poor woman was shaken nearly out of her mind. She was hysterical when she called the station."

Gideon nodded along sympathetically. "Of course. We're going to need to speak to her, you understand? A potential witness is too important to overlook."  
"We already spoke to her. She says she saw nothing aside from the body."

Gideon smiled somewhat apologetically. "We'll have to talk to her anyways." He spun slowly in a semi circle, letting his gaze drift over the neighborhood. "Quantico and Virginia." He turned back to face them. "How convenient for him."

"He's obviously extremely well-organized, confident," Morgan observed. "He thinks we can't catch him. And he was clever enough to avoid being spotted by the police you had on patrol in the area. There's a chance that this guy is local."

"But a blitz attack doesn't fit with an organized killer," Prentiss said. "It's already been decided that this unsub is about as organized as you can get."

"Maybe we're dealing with two unsubs," Morgan suggested.

"One who selects and kills the victims," Hotch continued. "And one with the bigger picture in mind."

"It's a possibility," Gideon conceded. "The victims were chosen at random."

"How do you figure?" Detective Callahan took a step closer.

Gideon faced him. "Did you notice anything similar between the victims?"

Detective Callahan shook his head, lips pressed tightly. "As far as we know, there was no common characteristic," he agreed.

"These people were chosen at random," Gideon said. "Wrong place, wrong time. Killed elsewhere and then their bodies brought here to be left on display." He let out a breath, rubbing his hands together and directed his next words at Emily. "Prentiss, I want you to talk to Mrs. Wilson. See if there's anything more she can tell us."

Prentiss nodded. "Got it."

As she left, Gideon's eyes fell on the house the body had been positioned in front of.

"Who lives here?" he asked Detective Callahan.

"Hmmm?" The detective glanced to where he was pointing. "That's Shane Parker's place. You won't get anything out of him."

"Why's that?" Morgan asked.

"He's not supposed to be here. He's on vacation. Left last week."

Gideon smiled slightly. "Of course."

* * *

 _Unknown Hotel Room, Bakersfield, California_

* * *

He lifted the phone from its receiver. A faint smile touched His lips; He yearned to hear Her voice.

He dialed the number on the disposable phone, waiting with delicious anticipation as it rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The line clicked abruptly.

"Hello?" Her voice, sweet and seductive, answered, sending a shiver up His spine.

"I've missed You, My Angel," He said in a breathless whisper.

She giggled girlishly. An angel's laugh. _His_ angel's laugh.

"Hello, my love," She whispered back. He could imagine Her twisting the phone cord delicately around Her perfect, snowy white fingers.

"The children are in bed, dearest; I have you all to myself. I've missed you _so_ much, my love…" She allowed Her voice to trail off teasingly.

"How much?" He murmured, playing along.

"So much I could just… _die_. Or, well… kill someone, I suppose." She laughed, high and girlish.

He laughed along with Her. He had always loved Her humor.

"Not yet, dearest. My turn first."

He could almost see Her perfect lips forming into a pout. "I thought you already _had_ your turn."

"I'm not done yet. The detectives arrived earlier this afternoon. You can begin with Your part tomorrow."

She remained silent.

"Are You upset, dearest? You must be patient. This is too soon. They won't appreciate it as much if it happens too soon."

She gave a heavy sigh. "You're right, Heart's Desire. As always."

He smiled.

"I can't wait to feel You in my arms, Fire of My Soul."

She giggled. "You'll feel me on more than just your arms, Treasure. Those lips of yours, for example."

He longed to return to Her.

He yearned to throw open the door to Their house, pull Her close and plant a kiss on Her.

Burning.

Passionate.

He licked His lips. They were suddenly dry as a desert. Only She could quench His thirst.

"I'd better go, dear. Wouldn't want you getting too much of me. You'll start to be unfaithful." Her cheerful voice turned sour.

"You haven't met any girls, have you?" Pert. Fiery.

What a Woman She was!  
He loved when She got jealous.

"No, My Heaven. My heart is safe with You always."

She was the only one. There could never- _would_ never- be another like Her.

He could almost see Her smirk. "As it should be. Goodbye, Sweet. Kisses."

A sloppy 'mwah' sound came from Her end of the call. He drank it up, eyes closed. He imagined breathing in the scent of Her thick hair, staring into Her vibrant, wild eyes.

There was a click on Her side, indicating She had ended the call. He held the phone to His ear a moment longer, still hearing the echo of Her words.

"Goodbye," He finally said, ending the call in just the same breathless whisper as he had started it.

He ached for Her.

This loss, this loneliness… it made Him angry.

Time to get rid of His aggression.

Time for phase two.

* * *

 _Unknown Location_

* * *

He dared a peek out the window. He wasn't supposed to.

Mother would be very angry if she caught him. But… but sometimes he looked anyways.

He was being bad. He knew that.

It made him tremble to think of how bad he was being.

Still, he lifted a tiny corner of the curtain. Just enough for a small glimpse.

"You shouldn't do that."

The voice was small, barely above a whisper. It came from behind him.

He jumped, dropping the curtain as if it burned him.

His sister was seated on the couch. She had a book in her lap, but her eyes were focused on him.

She still had a bruise under her eye. The one Mother gave her last time She was angry.

It made a lump rise in his throat, but he shouldn't feel that way.

Mother didn't want to hurt them. She only did when they were bad, bad like he just was when he was sneaking a peek out the window.

She did it because they gave her no other choice. She told them so. She told them so herself as she wiped away their tears when it was all over.

Mother never lied to them.

"Mother will be angry," his sister said. She turned her head slowly, nervously, wincing at the pain as she did so.

Mother had done something to her neck that made it painful to move.

Corrie's unfocused gaze lingered on the staircase, as if afraid that any second, Mother would come down and catch them.

He swallowed, and moved away from the window.

Some of the tightness in his sister's shoulders relaxed, but she still appeared to be on guard, as if she expected Mother's imposing presence to make itself known.

She was wise. It did.

"Andi!"

"I warned you," Andi's sister hissed.

His blood turned cold.

He panicked, but he knew better than to run. The only thing to do was await Mother's punishment and promise to do better next time.

His eyes flew to his sister's face. She had gone rigid, the book held tightly in a white-knuckled grip.

He didn't think Mother could know he had been near the window, but there was always that risk.

His small heart beat against his ribcage as Mother stepped into the room. She smiled at him, but there was something stern and sinister hidden beneath Her kindness.

He hated it when she looked at them like that.

She knew. Or she suspected.

"Andi," she said again. She looked so terrible and fierce in that moment, Andi just wanted to cry.

He forced his eyes to meet hers. (Mother hated it if they didn't look at her when she was speaking.)

He opened his mouth to speak to her. (Mother hated when they didn't answer almost as much as she hated it when they looked away.)

His mouth had gone dry. He couldn't answer her if he wanted to.

She didn't seem to want him to this time though. She went right to the next question.

"Were you near the window, Andi?"  
Mother stepped around the couch, coming closer to him. Almost instinctively, his sister drew her legs closer to herself.

Mother pretended not to notice her. Not yet anyways.

He opened his mouth again. He felt like a goldfish, like one of those goldfish he had brought home from the pet store one day.

Mother had flushed them down the toilet.

Pets were a distraction from Mother.

"I...I…" He wanted to look at his sister, but he knew that if he took his eyes off Mother, she would be most displeased.

Mother turned to his sister. "Corrie, was he near the window?" Her voice was sweet as honey. He loved his mother's voice.

Just not when she spoke like this.

His sister hesitated, before she finally gave in, nodding slowly, reluctantly, like it was a betrayal. "Yes," she said quietly, lowering her eyes.

Mother crouched down so she was at eye level with his sister. Gently, she reached out and cupped Corrie's chin, bringing her head up to look at her again.

"Corrie," she said, "you know he isn't allowed to do that. As the oldest, you know it's your responsibility to watch your little brother, don't you?"

His sister didn't answer.

Mother's grip tightened. "I said _don't you_ , Corrie. When I speak, you answer me. Do you understand me?"

Mother's voice sounded wild, uncontrolled. It rose in pitch steadily.

His sister's eyes closed for the briefest of seconds. Then she opened them again and answered, "Yes."

Mother smiled again, relaxing, but her fingers still stayed on Corrie's chin. "You know I have to punish you," she remarked. "Both of you."

She sounded almost gleeful.

His heart leapt to his throat. He didn't want to punished. He didn't want his sister punished.

But of course they'd brought this on themselves.

If he could just be good, she wouldn't have to discipline them so often.

He waited, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Mother moved her hands off of his sister's face.

"Selene."

Mother's face colored in that special way that made his chest feel far too tight.

"Selene," Grandmother spoke again, clasping her frail hands to her chest. She stood at the top of the stairs, looking like an angel of mercy.

The look that Mother shot her was as poisonous as an angry cobra, and just as dangerous.

Father and Grandmother were the only ones who could reason with Mother, but sometimes… sometimes it didn't always work.

Mother took a deep breath and seemed to compose herself. "Not now," she hissed. Her tone suddenly escalated, belying the calm she had exhibited just a second ago. "Not _now._ They were bad. They're always _bad!_ " she shrieked.

Andi whimpered.

Mother's head whipped around to glare at him. He wanted to shrink back, wanted to hide.

He'd made Mother angry.

His bottom lip trembled. He didn't want her to be angry.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted. His voice was small. Small enough that she might not have heard him.

But he really was. So, so sorry.

"Is it so hard? Why can't you just be _good?"_ She sounded disgusted now. She folded her hands and looked away angrily.

Corrie did the same thing sometimes when she was sulking. Not now, though. Now she seemed painted into the couch, hardly daring to breathe.

"Please," Grandmother spoke again, her voice as small as his had been. "It was a mistake. He'll be good. Won't you, Andi?"

Andi nodded hopefully.

Mother stood where she was, debating her next move.

Then, she made her decision.

Mother moved till she was next to him, kneeling on the floor so as to be at eye level with him.

She placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Corrie," she said sweetly, without taking her eyes off of Andi, "please go upstairs with your grandmother."

She said please. She liked to say please. Good manners, she said.

But there was no mistaking it as anything but a command.

His sister stood and dashed for the stairs, the book forgotten on the couch.

Mother smiled at him. "I'm not going to punish you this time," she said.

He blinked at her, confused, and she reached out, stroking his hair and brushing a lock behind his ear.

"I have something planned for us, Andi. Do you want to do something with Mother?"

Fearfully, hesitantly, he nodded.

His mother smiled. "I knew you would," she said.

* * *

 **Note:** Does that count as a cliffhanger? I'm really not sure.

But... yeah. Some more setup. *cringes*

Sorry about that.

I know we didn't see a lot of the team in this chapter, but we needed to get a few things with the unsub(s) and the head detective out of the way first. It didn't occur to me that there was so little of them until we were going back and editing this. Don't worry though. You'll be getting plenty of them in the chapter that follows, I promise.

And Selene is going to be _very_ important to the plot, so she's going to have to have a few scenes to herself. Rest assured, the majority of our focus after this will be on the BAU.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** Chapter four on Sunday, as promised. I'm going to be waiting till next Sunday to post chapter five, however, so there won't be any updates in between then.

A very big thank you to all of our reviewers: spxxxxx, Prolific Reider, Dextolan, meritt and ellessecox. Your reviews are all very much appreciated.

* * *

 _FBI Headquarters, The Office of Penelope Garcia_

* * *

The keyboard clacked under her fingernails.

Garcia frowned, dissatisfied with her search results, and tried again.

Still nothing.

"Hey." A voice and soft knock sounded from outside her office. Both belonging to Reid.

She didn't look up. "Welcome to the Vault of Secrets. How may I help you, mortal man?" she quipped, though it lacked its usual vivacity, even to her own ears.

Reid stepped completely into her office, shutting the door behind him.

Penelope continued her search.

Reid moved till he was behind her.

"You really think the victims have something in common?" he asked, taking in her computer screen.

She took a break from the search to glance at him. "You don't?" And okay, maybe she was a little defensive about it.

She wanted to do something that would at least _feel_ useful while her team-or, well- _most_ of her team-was gone.

They had already said that there didn't appear to be anything in common, but who knew what a little deep digging could unearth?  
If she sounded slightly peevish, Reid didn't seem to notice. "If the unsub is killing to get our attention, then it's highly unlikely that there would be some kind of fantasy or delusion as the reason for his behaviour. He wouldn't have a specific type. There may be something of importance behind _why_ he chose who he did, but as to a shared trait between them…" He broke off with a shrug. "It's pretty much at random."

Garcia's shoulders slumped and she sighed. "So basically what you're saying is that my past hour of painstakingly relentless labor was a complete and utter waste of time."  
Reid spluttered, hurrying to backtrack. "No, that's not what I said…!"

"Relax, boy wonder." She grinned, enjoying his discomfort. "I'm kidding." She grabbed a pen, twirling it between her fingers, watching as he relaxed. "What would you suggest?"  
"The unsub specifically asked for Gideon, Hotch, Morgan and Prentiss and _only_ them. Since we have no cases involving those four that us three here didn't also participate in, maybe it's something that only Hotch and Gideon were involved in. Whatever it is, there might be ties to both Morgan and Prentiss. I mean," he added quickly, "the chances of that being the case are astronomically small, almost nonexistent, but…"

"...what else have we got?" Garcia finished for him.

Reid nodded. "Yeah."

She sighed, preparing for another search.

"And what are the chances that an unsub would go through all the trouble to find the one place where a Quantico Avenue happens to intersect a Virginia Avenue?"

"Maybe he grew up there?" Garcia suggested.

Reid shook his head, frowning. "It's unlikely," he repeated.

"More unlikely than searching for just that _one_ place? How did he even know it existed?" Garcia asked skeptically. "Google maps?"

For once, it seemed Reid didn't have the answer immediately handy. "Maybe?"

Penelope rolled her eyes. "I was _joking_." She turned her eyes back to her computer screen, sighing. "Well, I'll give the guy one thing: he's good."

"He's _very_ good," Reid agreed. "The level of preparedness he had to have had suggests a perfectionist, someone with OCD. Which doesn't make sense considering the apparent randomness of the killings. You'd think he'd have put the same level of care into the murders, but it's almost like he planned his location and stopped there."

"Well," Garcia said, sitting back. "I hope you have another working theory, Dr. Reid, because I've got nothing from this angle."

"Nothing?" Reid leaned over to get a better look at her screen. "It was a long shot, but there had to at least have been something."

"Well, I've got nothing." She shook her head.

"Not even acquaintances? No one?"  
"I can try again, but..." She scanned the results. "It really looks like we've got nothing, Reid."

"But… no, that can't be possible. There has to be _something._ "

Penelope sighed. "There's a chance this is someone entirely new," she offered.

Reid didn't look convinced. "It doesn't make sense. Why would they want to challenge the BAU then?"

Garcia opened her mouth, then shut it again, just as quickly.

She had no idea.

* * *

 _Apartment Building Parking Lot, Van Ness, Washington DC_

* * *

They had been standing in the chilly parking lot for well over an hour.

"Please, Mother, I'm cold," the child beside her whispered.

"Quit your whining," she responded sharply.

She checked her watch, exhaling heavily and watching as her breath turned into a thick cloud in the brisk night air.

"Can't we wait in the van?"

" _Enough!_ " she snarled, turning on the little boy. "You whine and you cry and you whimper and you fuss and I've just had enough! _Enough_ , I say!"

Andi shrank back, his green eyes filling with tears.

Her look softened suddenly. She cupped his little chin in her hands. "Oh, honey, you know that if you were good I wouldn't have to yell so much."

"I know, Mother," he whispered.

Selene winked at him. "There you go. Maybe if you're extra helpful tonight, I'll give you a treat later. Maybe I'll even sing for you."

Andi perked up a little.

"Really?"

"Is that what you want for your treat?"

Andi nodded emphatically.

"Then of course." Selene smiled at him tenderly, her hand caressing his hair. "You must be _extra_ good now, alright? Now be quiet and remember what I told you."

The light blue Volvo Amazon car pulled into its parking spot, just as it did every night.

The boy stepped out of his car after a few seconds. His clothes were mismatched as usual; he never dressed properly.

It was time to make her move. "Excuse me, sir?" Selene asked coyly, stepping forward. She was dressed in typical teenager clothing, jeans, sneakers and a denim vest over a casual white blouse. She wore light makeup that accented her youthful features.

All together, she probably appeared to be about sixteen.

She often dressed Corrie in similar outfits, insisting that her children must be well-dressed at all times.

The person in front of her stopped, turning. He wore his hair long and curly; his light brown eyes were wide and unsuspecting.

"Hey." He smiled faintly. "Can I help you?"

And so it began.

Her game.

"I'm just…" She looked around her nervously, clutching Andi's hand tightly. She took a deep breath, fixing herself in her role.

"My mom… she wanted us to spend the night with our aunt, but she's not here and I... I don't know what to do. I thought she'd still be here, but..." She rubbed her arm. "It's getting late. Could we use your phone?"

His brow crinkled, though she could see the horror reflected in his eyes. _Oh, this was going to be so easy._ "Your mom just _left_ you? Didn't she check to see if your aunt was home?"

She shrugged, giving him an innocent, forced smile as if it were nothing new. She made her eyes look pained, worried. Abused. This look was nothing new to her; her mother's neglect had been a constant theme throughout her childhood.

"Sure, of course," the boy said, in response to her request for his phone. His voice sounded far away. He was distracted.

Blake's doing of course.

The poor thing really was oh so worried about his friends.

Selene really wasn't that much older than him, she thought, but the poor dear was just so helpless all the time.

It was hard to think of him as anything more than a lost little boy.

Selene batted her eyelashes and thanked him, stepping out of earshot. Andi stayed with the kid. She took the phone from his hand and dialed her own number, placing it to her ear.

Corrie and Mother would know better than to pick up.

"Mom?" she asked, when the call went to voicemail.

She frowned, forcing her eyes to look wider and more scared.

The boy look over, watching her with a concerned expression.

Good.

"She's not picking up," Selene said after a few more 'tries', walking slowly back to the two, who had by now struck up a conversation.

Shoulders slumped, head down, Selene submissively handed the phone back to the boy.

"Come on, Andi," Selene said softly. "Maybe we can find a shelter nearby."

"Shelter!?" the boy choked, gripping his car keys more tightly. To his credit, he truly did seem concerned. Not to his credit, he was awfully gullible.

Selene expected more from an FBI agent.

Andi, playing his part perfectly, burst into tears. "I wanna go home!" he sobbed, hugging Selene tightly.

Selene, too, started crying, allowing a few tears to slip down her cheeks. "I know," she whispered comfortingly. "Daddy wouldn't treat us like this. If we only had a way to get to his house…" she gave a heartbroken sigh and started to turn away.

"Wait!" The boy squeaked. "Don't go. Is your father's house near here? I can drive you. Have you told him what your mother has been doing, leaving you by yourselves?"

Perfect.

Selene and Andi looked at each other, then mutely shook their heads.

The boy-Selene sighed inwardly. She supposed she should start calling him by his actual name.

 _Reid_ knelt down so that he would be eye-level with Andi. "I can get you guys help, I promise," he said softly, smiling. "You won't ever have to deal with your mother again."

Andi ran into his arms, hugging him tightly. Selene, after a few seconds, did the same thing.

"Thank you," she whispered, elated.

Reid was still smiling as the needle slipped into his neck.

Reid's reflexes had yet to slow down. He lashed out, flailing, reaching for his gun. Selene grabbed his arms, turning so that she was staring right into his eyes.

He opened his mouth to shout, to cry out, to raise an alarm.

Selene was faster.

"Agents Hotchner," she whispered, freezing Reid in place.

"Gideon." Reid's eyes widened.

"Prentiss." His jaw went slack. He knew in an instant what was happening.

"And Morgan," Selene purred, biding her time, lapping up his psychological torture. "I eagerly await your arrival."

Reid understood immediately, with that one horrified glance, the full extent of their plan. As the drugs started to set in, his mind raced, desperately fighting the shut down.

"If anyone I have not named," Selene continued cheerfully, still maintaining eye contact. Andi had disappeared. Or had he? Reid couldn't tell. All he could see were the woman's dark brown eyes; timeless and all-encompassing.

He was lost in those eyes, in that voice.

"...accompanies you on this journey, more will die."

The woman's image swayed in front of him. He started to lose his balance, rocking back on his heels.

"If you leave anyone I have named behind," she said, catching him, holding him in an almost motherly embrace.

She was strong for one so small.

"More will die." Her last word exited her lips as a breathless hiss.

She stroked his hair tenderly, as his eyes started to roll back in his head. "Do you remember how it ends, sweetness?"

"Hurry," he breathed, barely audible. It was a prayer to his team.

 _Save me_ , it said. _Save yourselves. Hurry_.

But nobody would know until too late.

Reid's body went limp.

* * *

 _BPD Headquarters, Bakersfield, California_

* * *

Call Garcia. That was what she was currently expected to do. Hotch wanted to hear how things were going on their end, even if they currently had no information to run by her here in California.

Emily pressed ' _talk'_ and held the phone against her ear.

Garcia answered on the second ring.

"You've reached the Office of the All-Knowing Oracle. What can I do for you, m'dear?" Penelope chirped into her ear.

"Uh, yeah, hey," Prentiss crossed her legs, glancing around the station. All the hustle and bustle and no one seemed to be getting anything done. "Hotch said he wanted me to check in with you in case anything new's cropped up."

Garcia clucked sympathetically. "Sorry, Em, nothing aside from what we already know."

Prentiss sighed, leaning back in her chair. It had been worth a shot at least. "What about Reid? He got any theories?"

"He had an idea yesterday. It didn't pan out. Not even with my kind of deep digging. You guys that stuck?"

"Unfortunately. I spoke with the woman who found our last body. A Rose Wilson. Not surprisingly, given the way this case is going, she had nothing for us." Prentiss sighed, allowing herself to slump. "Hey, can I talk to Reid for a minute?" She straightened in her chair.

She could hear Garcia's fingers still moving over the keyboard. "Sure, I'll call him right up."

"Great." Prentiss allowed a smile to slip into place. "Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for." There was a long pause on the other second. "Hang on a second…" It was almost muttered.

Prentiss furrowed her brows. "Is something wrong?"

"Reid hasn't showed up for work today."

Prentiss's mouth dipped into a frown. "Is that unusual?"

"For Reid? Honey, that's like the sun not rising in the east."

"Oh." Prentiss blinked. "Surely he gets sick sometimes."

"Well, he did get the flu once..." Garcia began.

"Look at that," Emily joked. "He's human after all."

"Sweets, he begged Morgan to slip him the case notes under the bathroom door. Spencer Reid just doesn't skip work. Period." Her voice tensed up.

"Well," Prentiss tried to keep her voice light, "there's always a first time, isn't there?"

"No." Even over the phone, Prentiss could picture Garcia shaking her head stubbornly. "Not for Reid."

"You think something's wrong?"

A spark of concern flickered in her chest, but it was easy enough to ignore it.

One missed day at work didn't necessarily mean something was wrong.

Even for someone like Reid.

"Maybe," Garcia sighed. "I'll try calling him. If he doesn't answer, I can send JJ out to his apartment to check up on him."

Prentiss sought a way to reassure her. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Garcia made a noise that sounded like she didn't believe her and said, "I'll call you when I have anything."

Prentiss suddenly found herself wondering if she was talking about the case or Reid.

Probably both.

She cleared the troubled thoughts from her mind and stood, going to search Hotch.

They still had a killer to find.

* * *

 **Note:** This is perhaps the chapter we're the most unsure of... and we ended up writing three different scenarios between Selene and Reid alone, although this was the one that we liked the most.

The section between Selene and Reid is told from her point of view so any thoughts on Reid are her own and do not reflect the opinions of Starshadow or myself. We don't consider Reid to be particularly gullible, but remember that she's the bad guy here. She's going to have ideas that aren't exactly accurate.

If you're wondering where any of this is leading, don't worry. It's all got a point that will eventually be revealed, but we're taking this kind of slow. Where would the fun be if it was all revealed right away? It all _will_ be explained, however.

We would appreciate any constructive feedback. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** Thank you to our reviewers: spxxxxx and Prolific Reider, as well as everyone else who's favorited/followed or read.

* * *

"I'm sure it's nothing," JJ told herself.

She turned into the parking lot of Reid's apartment building, carefully pulling into an empty space.

"Well, you're here," she muttered to herself. She nibbled her bottom lip, staring at the building for a long moment. "Maybe he really is just sick." It would be unusual, but it wasn't impossible. "Should I have brought soup?" She sighed. "I should have brought a soup."

JJ eyed the building again, before her distracted glance caught her rearview mirror, and she was irritated to see her own haggard blue eyes staring back at her. "I'm getting all worked up for nothing," she remonstrated herself.

She cracked a smile, staring at her reflection until she almost believed it. If Reid really was sick, he'd need a friendly face, not the morose expression she'd been featuring seconds before. Then, strengthened, she opened the door to her gray Chevy and stepped out.

His apartment was on the second floor. There was no elevator in his building. Only stairs.

She brushed her hair over her shoulder as she reached the top.

And then she noticed it.

The door to his apartment was left ajar. It was only by an inch, and, she reasoned, trying not to assume the worst, it could have been a mistake.

Especially if he was sick.

But no… she knew Reid well enough to know that he wouldn't be that careless. Even sick.

Heart in her throat and hand on her gun (just as a precaution, she told herself), she nudged the door open with her foot.

"Hello?" her voice was calm, but loud. She tried to add an ounce of cheeriness to it. Just in case he was there. "Reid?"

There was no answer.

Something had happened.

Something had to have happened.

JJ drew her gun, stepping forward hesitantly.

All she could see was an image of Reid lying blood-soaked on his floor.

She could see the boyish light leaking from his dying eyes.

His tousled hair now plastered flat against his forehead by his blood.

So much blood.

She didn't want to see that.

 _My fault_ , she thought. _I got him kidnapped before. He was taken on my watch_.

 _I will never forgive myself if he dies._

But if he was hurt, in need of help… This wasn't a choice.

"Spence?" she called,entering the apartment cautiously. She still held her gun in front of her.

 _A precaution,_ she told herself. _Just in case._

His living room looked fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything looked spotless. Nothing had been ransacked or even knocked slightly out of place.

It should have calmed her.

It didn't.

There was nothing she could see.

She crept through the room and into the hall toward the bedroom, swallowing the lump building in her throat. The bedroom door was open. She stopped just outside, peering in without actually entering.

The room was empty; she felt a simultaneous rush of relief and fear.

There was no body, but there was also no Reid.

On further inspection, she found that the bed had not been slept in.

Had he even made it home?

She hadn't seen any evidence that he had.

Not good.

She kept calling out, looking through the rooms one by one. Nothing.

It wasn't a large apartment.

It didn't take her long.

She called Garcia.

"JJ, thank God!" Garcia's voice was immediately in her ear. "I haven't been able to concentrate on _anything_. Did you find him? He's fine, right? Just not feeling well?"

"Garcia I… I can't find anything."

Garcia made a whimper not unlike a kicked puppy. "N...nothing?"

JJ stopped in the small living room. She'd breezed through it once she realized it was empty, hoping to find Reid alive and okay somewhere else. "Nothing, I can see…"

She let her eyes scan the room again, and discovered she'd been wrong.

Whoever had done this had left something behind.

"Wait." How could she not have noticed this? "There's something on the couch, I'll-"

JJ dropped the phone, frozen in place.

"JJ? JJ, what did you find? JJ, talk to me! You're scaring me!" Agent Jareau could hear Garcia's incessant voice faintly from the floor, but she ignored it, too wrapped up in her horror.

"No, please, no!" She covered her mouth as tears sprung unbidden to her eyes.

 _Not again._

 _REID._

JJ fell to her knees in front of the couch, hugging herself as tightly as she could. She completely disregarded her protocol. She didn't care if the unsub was still in the house, waiting to kill her.

Her head pounded and her heartbeat raged against her ribcage. Her mouth tasted like ashes, mixed with the salt of the tears streaming down her cheeks.

It was too soon.

He didn't deserve this.

Not Reid. Anyone but Reid.

On the couch, deliberately placed, was a candid picture of Reid. He was smiling. He looked so innocent.

 _Reid._

There was an X drawn over his face. Well, more like smeared. JJ knew for certain that it was drawn in blood. Reid's blood.

He was bleeding.

 _Please, not Reid_.

Underneath the picture was a message, one that struck the last chord of terror in JJ's heart.

One down, it declared ominously. Only six to go.

 _No._

 _Please no._

* * *

Hotch answered his cell on the first ring.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch?"

It was Garcia.

She sounded breathless, terrified even.

Something in his chest gave an unpleasant little leap.

"Yes."

"Where are you?" she asked, without preamble.

Caught off guard, he answered, "At the station with Prentiss. We're going over everything we have. Preparing a profile to give out to the officers on duty. Why?"

He didn't like this. It wasn't like Garcia to be so indirect.

"Are you sitting?"  
"What?"

"Are you sitting?" she repeated. "You might want to sit down for this."

"Garcia," he steadied himself. For Garcia's sake, "what happened?"

Garcia's response was a barely audible whisper. "I sent JJ to Reid's apartment."

"And?" Hotch refused to jump to conclusions.

Prentiss had told him Reid hadn't shown for work. That Garcia was worried.

Hotch had buried his feelings then. He hadn't had the time to deal with them. He felt them all resurfacing now.

"He's not there." He didn't need to see her to know she was weeping. "Hotch, someone took him. Someone came to his home and took him."

"What?" Hotch felt like he'd taken a sucker punch to the gut.

 _This wasn't supposed to happen._

 _How_ did this happen?

"I… I don't know how it happened." It was almost like she'd been reading his mind. "She called me. JJ called me and… and…!" She was on the verge of losing what little composure she had over the phone. No matter how he felt, he needed to calm her. He needed to know what happened.

"Garcia," he said, keeping his voice steady, "I need you to tell me exactly what happened, but you need to be calm."

"Okay," she sucked in a breath on the other end of the line, "okay. I'm calm."

"Good. That's good. Now I need you to tell me exactly what happened."

"He didn't show up for work today. So I… I sent JJ to his house. In case, he was sick, y'know." She sniffed.

 _Someone took him. Someone came to his home and took him._

"Garcia," Hotch prompted, voice gentle, as if her words weren't reverberating through his skull, "you need to tell me what JJ found."

"She found… Hotch, the kidnapper… he left a _photograph_ at the scene." Her voice broke for the first time.

"A photograph?" A hundred images leapt unbidden to his mind. Not one of them pleasant.

He shoved them all aside.

"Of Reid." Her voice was a barely audible whisper. "Leaving work. He'd been… he'd been stalking him."

So this had been Reid the deliberate target. He hadn't been chosen at random. The unsub wanted him and no one else would do.

Hotch squeezed his eyes shut, entertaining the idea that these two cases might be related. After all, what were the odds of two separate unsubs targeting members of the team specifically across the country at the same time? He didn't need Reid to tell him that the odds of that happening were very slim.

 _Reid._

"I understand."

"Hotch?" Garcia asked, voice small.

Hotch blinked his eyes open. "Yes?"  
"There was a message."

Alarm bells flared in his mind. "Message?"

"It said… it said: 'One down. Only six to go.'"

 _Oh no._

"What if… what if he's…?" She didn't finish her sentence.

"Garcia," he sought to reassure her, "you know that's not how we operate. Until we have proof that says otherwise, we assume that he's still alive."

The message, however, was ominous.

 _One down. Only six to go._

Garcia was right. They really had no way to tell if Reid was still alive or not.

"What do you want us to do?"

Hotch took a deep breath, turning to meet Prentiss' concerned stare. "Sit tight for now," he said. They had a case. They couldn't just up and leave. No matter how much he might want to. No matter how much Reid might need them now.

He closed his eyes again. It felt like a betrayal. Like sentencing Reid to death.

"We can't leave the case," he told her. More than anything, he wished it weren't so. He wanted nothing more than to pack up and leave, head back, but they couldn't.

They still hadn't caught their killer, therefore innocents were still at risk.

He rubbed two fingers over the space between his eyes. "Right now we're just going to have to trust the Bureau and local law enforcement to handle this."

 _This._

In other words, _Reid._

But he couldn't allow himself to think about that.

Remain impersonal.

Distance yourself.

Don't let personal emotions take control or they will get in your way and cloud your judgement.

And his head needed to be entirely in the game for this.

Garcia didn't comment on his choice of vocabulary.

Neither of them might like it, but if they left… Right now, he had to choose between the innocent people who could be endangered if they didn't follow this unsub's directions and one of their own.

Hotch hung up the phone.

He knew what Reid would want him to choose, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

* * *

The morgue had not been Morgan's idea, but Gideon had insisted.

Morgan grudgingly acknowledged the logic of the excursion. Given what little they had, learning anything more about how the unsub had left his victims might tell them more about him. He would still rather have been at the station, though.

He hated the morgue. Surrounded by death… it was another reminder of just how mortal they all were.

He got enough of that on the job as it was.

He redirected his attention to the woman in front of him. The coroner, a quirky woman in her mid thirties, was explaining the details of the case. She had greeted them with a smile and a cheerful look that seemed out of place with her job.

But then, a lot of coroners have personalities that don't fit their career choices.

"Okay, so what did you find?" Gideon asked, redirecting the girl, who had gone off on something of a tangent.

"Right, right, sorry." She flashed a winning smile at Morgan, who smiled back.

She had earlier introduced herself as Lorrie Jacobs. She had tight blonde curls and fetching green eyes, which spent most of their time fixed on Morgan.

Her vivacious demeanor settled into seriousness as she began to discuss the details of the case. "The victims were all thrown haphazardly on the street, as you know," she began.

Gideon nodded. "This shows a general disregard for humanity at large; he views his victims as riff raff at any social status, race, or age."

"According to forensics," Morgan commented, "the murder weapon was a wooden bludgeon and wiped clean of prints."

Lorrie nodded. "Mhmm. The second one was hit on the head first, but the actual cause of death was the victim's own pocket knife. The second blunt force weapon wasn't found, but if you'll look here," she pointed to a place on the back of the cadaver's head. "See this indentation? It's not the same as the mark the bludgeon made. It has more detail to it; it's not smooth. The throat slash is pretty uniform, however."

"An escalation. Slightly more extreme measures. Is he taking out his aggression on this one?" Gideon wondered.

Morgan shook his head. "Say I'm the victim, a college kid coming home from a party. A bit drunk, but not too much. I hear a noise behind me. I only have a pocket knife with me, so I take it out and brandish it at the noise. Unsub comes up behind me and bashes my head in. But I'm still alive. Not wanting to use another, more traceable weapon, he grabs the pocket knife and slits my throat. Quick, clean, no-nonsense. I don't think this is aggression at all, Gideon. I think it's just efficiency."

"A clean cut… medical training?" Gideon suggested.

Lorrie shook her head. "If I may interject… it doesn't take much knowledge of the human body to slit someone's throat. If you're trying to use the cut as information on his background, I would only say that it denotes experience, not training. See, here, the cut is slightly angled downward. Assuming that, as you say, the victim was already on the ground unconscious by this point, it was a quick cut without any precision. Someone with medical training would have made it straighter across the throat. And here, the letters carved in his chest, they're made up of little stab marks. Not a plain line, which would take skill. In theory, these murders are very simple and require little-to-no expertise to accomplish."

"Which is in opposition to the complexity of the situation," Gideon said. "I agree with Prentiss' theory; she believes that the unsub's brilliance lies on the mental plane, not the physical one. The murders aren't as important as the letters, and the letters aren't as important as the plot they represent." He paused. "Can we see the woman, Clara Hepburn?"

"Certainly, right this way," Lorrie said.

Smoothing her white lab coat, she ushered the two into a separate room. In the previous room, there had been a line of three bodies; the first two victims in the current case and another, unrelated one. Clara Hepburn, however, since she was the most recent victim, was still on the examination table.

"Her death was pretty routine, no head-bashing this time. But here's what's odd; the first cut was clean and efficient, but this one… he sawed through her neck like a first-timer. The strokes are different, the depth less methodical; everything about this cut _screams_ amateur. If not for the letters and the note, I wouldn't think these victims were related at all."

"Not a bit of this case makes sense, Lorrie; we're used to it at this point," Morgan said with a rueful smile. "Could it be multiple unsubs? When I last talked to Garcia, she told me that Reid said that the killing was consistent with male behavior, but the note seemed to be written by a woman."

Gideon frowned. "Perhaps the unsub has Dissociative Identity Disorder? Maybe he has two personalities with different gender identities. This would explain the femininity of the note. In addition, the level of stability and dominance required to reach out to us like that could be the dominant personality, while the submissive personality killed the first and third victims. Ethan Bedford's murder sounds like that of a dominant unsub, while the other two sound more submissive; a blitz attack and a sloppy throat cutting."

Morgan shrugged. "For now, though, I think we can profile the dominant personality. He would be a white male in his early thirties, confident, bold, but not very well-liked. He would draw attention to himself in the workplace and even in a casual place like the grocery store. The kind of guy that makes you suspicious just from a common phrase about the weather."

"That sounds good," Gideon agreed. "We should call Hotch and tell him what we've found."

He dialed a number on his cell phone, but was surprised to find that there was no cell service.

"Morgan, my phone's down. Try yours."

Morgan obligingly flipped the top of his phone back and raised it in the air. "Mine's dead too!" He exclaimed.

Lorrie snorted. "Just like everything else in this place," she said, gesturing around her at the cadavers.

Gideon shot her a glare.

"Sorry," she said, blushing slightly. "Morgue humor."

The two agents stared at her, before Morgan finally said, "That anything like gallows humor?"

She sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides. "Look, when you spend most of your quality time hanging around dead people, you gotta find _some_ way to keep yourself sane. For me, it's inappropriate jokes. I'm sure they're laughing with me from wherever they are." She shook her head, lowering her eyes for just a moment and lowering her voice. "God rest their souls," she said, more softly and sincerely than before, almost like it wasn't meant to be overheard by the two agents in the room with her.

Lorrie was an odd duck. That much was certain. Morgan shook his head. He and Gideon bid her goodbye before exiting the house of the dead and hopping into the dark SUV parked by the side of the road.

"Hey, it's something," Morgan volunteered, in an unsuccessful effort to break the crushing silence.

It was indeed something.

It was one step closer to finding the monster who did this and going home.

* * *

"Hotch, we got something." Morgan trotted into the station, feeling a lot better than he had in the past few hours. Gideon was somewhere behind him, seeing no need to rush the way the younger agent obviously did, but Morgan didn't care about that right now.

He stopped short when he caught Hotch's expression.

"So do we." Hotch was grim. The look Prentiss leveled at him was pained and… sympathetic.

Whatever Hotch and Prentiss had for them, it wasn't good news.

"Don't tell me," Morgan said. He sensed Gideon's presence, but his attention was solely on the two in front of him. "Our unsub took another victim."

That would explain the solemnity of his two teammates, but it didn't explain Prentiss' look, the one that somehow suggested he would be personally affected by this.

Which… he didn't understand. He didn't have anyone he knew in California.

"What?" Gideon cut in. "That doesn't make sense. He has what he wants. We're here. We're…"

"Jason…" Hotch interrupted him. It had the desired effect.

"Hotch, what happened?" Morgan asked, dread seeping into his tone.

"We tried to call you," Hotch said, not meeting his eyes. "Why didn't you pick up?"

"There was no cell service. Answer me, Hotch; you're avoiding the question. What happened?"

Hotch exhaled through his nose. "It's Reid. Garcia called me after you left. Someone abducted him at his apartment last night."

He watched as the information sank home with both of his teammates. Prentiss, already aware of the news, was watching them with a sort of grim determination.

He watched the agonized disbelief form on Gideon's face, the shock that quickly was overcome by outrage on Morgan's.

"What?" Morgan asked. "Hotch, we gotta go back."

"No." Hotch grabbed Morgan's arm, preventing him from taking off. "We can't."

Morgan brushed his hand off. "What do you mean we _can't?_ " he demanded. "Hotch, we can't just leave one of our own!"

"Right now, we don't have a choice!" Hotch snapped, anger lacing his tone. Anger at the unsub, the situation, at the damn _helplessness_ he was currently swimming in. "It's a choice between Reid or the other innocents this unsub might kill if we don't find him. I'm not asking you to like it. I don't like it either, but we know our choice." More softly, he added, "It's what Reid would want us to choose."

It _was_ what Reid would want them to choose. Reid, who would put his life on the line for a stranger. Reid, who was currently at risk of losing that life. (If he hadn't already, but… no. Hotch couldn't let his mind go there.)

It didn't make him feel any better.

And it wouldn't make Morgan feel any better.

In the end, however, it wouldn't make a difference.

"He's right," Gideon said, speaking for the first time. "Reid, at least, has his profiling skills. He'll do what he needs to survive this." _Again._ No one said the word, but it hung over them all the same. "These are innocents. They have no idea what they're dealing with. Protecting them is our first priority."

"And Reid gets hung out to dry," Morgan muttered darkly. It wasn't a fair thing to say. They all knew it, but no one spoke in the uncomfortable silence that followed.

It was Hotch who finally broke it. "If you've found something pertaining to the case, we need to hear it. The sooner we get this case solved, the sooner we get back

Morgan straightened his shoulders. "We interviewed the coroner, and we think we have enough for a rough profile."  
Prentiss perked up at that. "Go on."

"Ethan Bedford was murdered with his own pocket knife," Gideon said, "after the unsub had already bludgeoned him over the head. The killings at first glance appear to be disorganized, with no discernable MO, but we know that that's not the case. The location, the letters on the body, as well as the note indicate a higher level of planning. We already knew that there's a possibility that we're dealing with two unsubs." He spread his hands out. "Or a perhaps single unsub with more than one personality."

Derek stiffened at the reminder.

 _It wasn't Tobias Hankel, but the wounds left from that encounter were still very present._

"Two unsubs." Prentiss glanced at Hotch, breaking the silence uncomfortably. "If these were related, that might fit with the note."

"Note?" Morgan looked at her sharply. "You mean the one with Clara Hepburn?"

"There was a note left at Reid's house," Hotch said, looking grim. "One down. Six to go."

"Damnit!" Morgan shook his head. " _Damnit!"_ He wanted to punch something, anything. Preferably, the unsub behind all this.

He settled for giving Hotch the death glare.

"And you didn't tell us right away? How do we know he's still alive?" he challenged. "'One down; six to go?' That sounds an awful lot like a death count to me."  
Hotch grit his teeth, understanding his teammate's rage, but frustrated all the same. "Until we receive proof suggesting otherwise," he repeated his earlier words to Garcia, "we're assuming that Spencer is alive."

And while those words might have soothed Garcia, at least for a little while, they did little to alleviate the rage Morgan was currently feeling.

"Morgan," Hotch said, catching the younger man's attention, "I need your head in the game. The sooner we get this case solved, the sooner we can find Reid."

The man finally looked away, shelving his emotions, because Hotch was right.

The sooner they had this unsub in custody, the sooner they would be able return.

He just hoped Reid's case hadn't gone cold by the time they got that far.

And that there was still something left for them to find.

Yes, they never assume the worst. Not unless they have proof that confirms it.

But he was an FBI agent.

He'd seen the worst.

And it was hard not to let that get to his head.

"Okay," Morgan said, ready to cooperate. "What's our next step?"

His words were addressed to Hotch, but it was Gideon who answered. "We warn the public. Make it harder for him to seize another victim."

* * *

 **Note:** No Reid in this chapter. Sorry. But we'll be seeing him again next Sunday.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note:** So... this is a little late, but at it's still Sunday... at least where I am. We did lose power for the last few days though, so I wasn't able to write or work on anything really. Then I was out all day today and so didn't get this chapter proofread and edited until late. Sorry about that.

A very big thank you to our reviewers: Spxxxxx, Sherryola, Prolific Reider and Annamarie Joane Lynwood.

Please enjoy!

* * *

Awareness came in bits and pieces.

The voices he heard were muffled, indistinct along with the sensation that he was currently underwater.

He wasn't.

Or at least… he didn't think he was.

And that in and of itself was concerning.

Reid needed to be aware of his surroundings.

He remembered his time with Hankel, when situational awareness had been paramount to his survival.

Nothing was currently impeding his ability to breathe.

He wasn't underwater.

But that didn't mean he was in a good place.

Reid took a deep breath, counted to three in his head, and listened.

It didn't seem like anyone was in the room with him. Or… at least, he couldn't hear the voices anymore.

He squeezed his eyelids shut even tighter, before allowing himself to open his eyes.

No. Now was not the time to be doubting himself.

Slowly, he tried to shift his position, move, anything, but couldn't. His wrists were throbbing, fastened behind him with what felt like some kind of thick cord. A leather strap was wrapped around his chest, looped under his arms, holding him to the chair.

He was in a basement, the only light filtering in through two grimy windows. It was empty for the most part, save for several cardboard boxes that had been neatly stacked in the dead center.

Organization, he thought dimly. It was all in its place.

That fit with the profile, although, he realized, he didn't really have much for a profile.

Still… the girl-the woman-whoever she was-had been waiting. It hadn't been a spur of the moment decision. She'd had abduction in mind when she was waiting in the parking lot.

This had been planned.

That revealed at least some degree of organization.

Reid closed his eyes again, taking in another deep breath. He needed to hold himself together.

Most of his team was in California. And, with no way to know how long he'd been missing, JJ and Garcia might not even be aware of his disappearance yet.

Which meant Reid was on his own for the time being. He needed to keep his head clear.

He scrunched his brow, letting his head hang as he processed everything that had happened.

The killer, he'd carved up his victims.

 _BAU._

The unsub wanted them to come to him, but... not all of them.

Only four of them.

The rest had to stay behind.

And this woman… she'd known. She'd recited the note, word for word. And the only way that was possible was for her to be involved.

Two unsubs across the country. That was a first.

 _And the team had no idea._

That meant… the murders, those innocents, and his kidnapping… there was a bigger picture here.

One he couldn't see.

But that was his problem here.

There were too many questions. Not enough answers.

And, trapped here, he wasn't sure how he was going to get those answers.

He heard voices coming from upstairs and instinctively cringed against the back of his chair.

They seemed to be female voices, and they were fighting judging by the volume.

He wondered if the argument had anything to do with his abduction.

Had the girl at his apartment acted without the other's knowledge and permission?

And then the door creaked open, light spilling down the basement steps. The voices suddenly became more audible.

From his angle, Reid couldn't see who it was at the top of the stairs.

Not until two small figures descended. They stayed on the stairs, huddled together, watching him.

"Lookit," came a hushed whisper. Reid recognized the voice of the boy from earlier.

"Andi, what… I don't see anything!" It was a girl's voice. By the sound of it, she was older than the boy, but still young.

Children.

"Over there," the boy, Andi, whispered. "Tied up on the Hurting Chair."

"Mother doesn't like it when you talk like that, Andi. You know that. And I still don't see any-" Her voice trailed off suddenly.

For several minutes, the children just stood there, staring. At last, the little boy took a step down, leading the girl with him by the hand.

"Look," the boy whispered again. He sounded frightened and… maybe even a little awed. What exactly was it that went on in this house? "There he is."

Reid licked his lips, deciding that talking to them, or at least trying to might be his best bet at this point. "Andi," he started, picking up on one of the only things he knew about them.

The two of them startled, visibly shocked to hear him address one of them by name.

Andi turned, tugging on the girl's arm. "He knows my _name_!" he hissed in an audible whisper. "Is he magic, Corrie? Is he?"

"No," Corrie whispered, not taking her eyes off him. Her eyes seemed glazed over with some form of shock. But then, there wasn't enough light for him to see her expression clearly.

"Hey, Corrie," Reid said gently, smiling and trying to look as inviting as possible. "Is this your brother?" Any information he got out of the two could be instrumental in helping him escape and, in turn, getting them away from here when the time came.

Corrie shook her head mutely, still staring at him with her wide gray eyes.

Reid wasn't sure if that meant that the boy wasn't her brother or if it meant that she didn't want to answer him.

He tried a different approach. "What's going on? Can you tell me? Why am I here?"

Corrie still stared, not making a sound.

It was the boy who finally said anything, but when he did, it made no sense. "You've been bad," he whispered, and something in his tone, in his whole demeanor changed, and he seemed more like a hunted animal. It was clearly a line he was parroting.

"What does that mean?" Reid asked. He tugged at his bonds, but they were tight. Too tight. He'd only succeed in rubbing his wrists raw.

The little boy seemed like he wanted to reply, but the girl was already upon him. "No!" she said, a frantic urgency in her voice. "We're not supposed to talk to him! Don't be stupid, Andi. You're always getting us into trouble! She'll use the…" She stopped and, even in the poor lighting, Reid could see her quivering like a rabbit with the hounds on its tail, full of nervous energy. "The you-know-what. You heard what she said. Listen to Mother. Let's go and leave him here." She sounded a little less sure of herself.

"I can help you," Reid tried again. And he would. If he could get out of here, the first thing he would make sure of was that these kids were taken away from here as soon as possible. Whatever was going on here, these children were clearly just as much victims as he was. If not more so.

The woman had threatened the boy with a gun to get him to comply. If they were subjected to regular abuse… that made it all the more important that he get all three of them out of here.

Two pairs of eyes stared at him from the darkness. Reid had to admit that maybe, tied to a chair as he was, an offer of help coming from him would sound ridiculous.

"I mean it," he said, trying to sound like he did.

Corrie shook her head then. " _You're_ the one who needs help," she said."Save it for yourself. We don't need a stranger meddling in our 'll be just fine, wont we, Andi?" Her tone was dark, brittle; carrying the scars born from years of conditioning.

"Corrie, stop." The boy tugged on her sleeve again. "Don't be mean."

She was about to give a retort when something crashed upstairs. Reid, along with the two children, flinched, and, before he had a chance to say another word, the girl had grabbed the boy's hand, saying something to him in a hurried whisper that Reid couldn't catch. She released his hand then and the boy scrambled soundlessly up the stairs.

The girl cast one last look at him before she too had hurried up the stairs, as silently as a mouse.

The door shut, the pool of light on the basement floor vanishing, leaving Reid alone once more in the dark, figuratively and literally.

The children had vanished like specters, as if they had never been there in the first place.

Maybe, Reid wondered, dazed as he was, they hadn't been.

* * *

"Selene," the old woman spoke softly, timidly.

Selene ignored her, bustling through the kitchen in a rush of frenzied activity.

"Selene!" The woman was still timid, but louder this time.

" _What!?_ " Selene whipped around, slamming a plate just hard enough on the kitchen counter to make the old woman jump. "I don't have time for this, Mother," she hissed, her voice deadly soft. "Can't you see I'm _working?_ I have things to do! I don't have _time_ to listen to every little thing you have to complain about."

"He needs water," the old woman whispered.

"What?" Selene froze for a moment, jaw locked, eyes fiery.

"The boy in the basement." The old woman looked away, wiping her hands together nervously. "Water?" It was no longer a suggestion, but a small plea.

"No," Selene said shortly. "He's being punished. He needs to be punished."

 _Punishment._

It was a fixation for her. Punishing people for their misdeeds.

"Selene…"

"Don't think you can tell me what to do, _Mother!"_ Selene snarled. "Is that hard for you to grasp? Is that _so_ hard for you to understand?"

The woman took a step back. "Selene…"

" _Stop using my name!_ " Selene screamed, rounding on the elderly woman and backhanding her hard enough to knock her backwards.

She stood, posture locked, in front of the old woman, chest heaving. "Might I remind you, 'Mother', that you are here by the hospitality of my husband and I. Do you really want to go back on the streets, you useless old hussy?"

The woman shook her head silently, eyes clenched shut.

"Then don't question me." She turned away, fingering the hilt of a kitchen knife she had picked up off the counter. "You can't tell me what to do anymore, Mother." Her voice was softer now, almost gentle. "I won't let you."

"Of course not." The woman had made no move to get off the floor. She kept her eyes down, didn't raise her voice above a murmur, in the hopes that she wouldn't set Selene off. "Of course not," she repeated.

"Do you remember?" Selene spun back around. The knife was still in her hands. "Do you remember everything you did?"

The woman pushed herself up till she had achieved a sitting position. "Selene…" she whispered, eyes glued to the knife. "What…?"  
"I told you not to use my name!" Selene snapped, but her eyes were distant. Her heart wasn't in the reprimand.

The woman flinched. "I'm sorry."

Selene didn't seem to hear the apology though. Or if she did, she didn't acknowledge it.

She ran a finger over the blunt side of the blade, almost caressing it. "You should remember," she said. "After everything you did…"  
"I didn't…"

The woman saw it coming. She desperately tried to bring back that moment of recognition in Selene, when the young woman would recognize her for what she was; a homeless woman she had kidnapped five years ago.

Not her mother.

"Selene, I didn't do anything to you. I'm Bess, remember? I'm not your mother. You took me in, and it was so, so kind of you. Do you remember that?"

Selene gave her a mirthless chuckle. "Always lying, Mother. Just another thing you put me through on a daily basis."

"I didn't do anything! That was your mother! That was Edith, not me!"

"Yes, you did!" Selene had raised her voice again. "You know what you did! How could you _lie_ to me like this?"

She threw the knife in a fit of anger.

Bess closed her eyes, flinching back. She didn't even have the time to throw up her arms to defend herself, before the knife thudded harmlessly against the wall and clattered to the floor.

Bess' heart skipped a beat.

"Near miss," Selene murmured, staring wide-eyed at the knife, almost shocked. She stalked closer to Bess, who instinctively shrank away.

By this point, she had grown used to Selene's frequent temper tantrums.

She was unpredictable during her episodes.

Dangerous.

Selene sneered at Bess without looking at her, brushing past her. She had one of Blake's looks on her face.

"I'm better than you," his expression always said. Bess honestly couldn't decide which of the two was worse.

Selene ran her finger along the length of the knife, staring at it curiously, in almost childlike wonder.

"You aren't her," she said, as if realizing it for the first time. "You aren't her."

Bess shook her head, tearfully this time, though her tears were of relief.

"I'm not," she gasped out.

And then Selene jerked her head up, eyes focused on something beyond Bess. She looked shocked, furious.

Slowly, Bess turned her head, afraid of what she might find.

Andi and Corrie, the children, stood there, hand in hand. Corrie's eyes were wide, locked on Selene. Andi was cowering at his sister's side.

It wasn't hard to determine where they'd been.

The basement.

* * *

Garcia worked with a sense of life and death urgency not entirely foreign to her, but to a degree that she seldom felt.

All victims deserved justice. All predators deserved to face the consequences of their actions.

That was the mindset she took to work each day. She tried equally hard to find the information they needed to save any life.

But it was different when the victim was someone you knew, someone you cared about.

"What are you doing?"

She jumped a little, having been so involved in her search that she hadn't heard JJ come in.

Recovering herself, she addressed the blonde agent. "People knock for a reason," she said, giving the woman a pointed stare.

JJ offered a tight smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Sorry."

Garcia sighed, realizing the stress was getting to her. "It's fine." She rubbed at her forehead.

JJ stepped closer to her desk. Considering the situation, she was doing a remarkable job holding herself together. "What are you looking for?" As far as she knew, they had nothing to go on. There was nothing for her to _be_ looking for.

"Getting into the CCTV cameras in the parking lot at Reid's apartment," she answered, keeping her voice low. There was no one there to eavesdrop, but she still didn't want to run the risk of being overheard. "There aren't any positioned close enough to the scene to actually… get a look at what happened. Or… who was there," She'd been nearly giddy with the idea that they'd get a look at Reid's abductor. That she'd have a face to run through her computer, only to be disappointed to learn that the cameras were positioned at the exits, monitoring who came and went. When this was over, she'd make them change that, "but the cameras only caught seven cars entering between the time Reid left and you went to check on him. And out of those seven, three left several hours later. And the cameras don't tell us which one has Reid. If, you know, he was taken by car and not spirited away through some other means." She cringed internally. " _But_ …" This was where the real genius of her plan lay… or at least where she felt it did… "if I can match the license plates to the owners, see who has a record, or who might be most likely to take our boy…"

It was a long shot. The car could have been stolen, the person might not even _have_ a record (though she doubted that that was the case), she might not be able to catch the license plate, but… if they knew, or at least had an idea, who'd been on the street at the time of the abduction, then it would be easier to find a suspect when the team had a profile.

Someone who _fit_ that profile.

JJ's brow crinkled. "Is that even legal?"

"Please." Garcia gave JJ her "you know me better than that" look. "This is _Reid_ we're talking about. And since when have I shied away from bending the rules a little before?"

JJ had to admit she had a point. She took a seat. Maybe this way, she'd feel like she was contributing somehow. "Do you have anything?"  
Garcia smiled, feeling a bit more like herself in spite of everything. "Oh, sweetheart, did you even have to ask?"

* * *

They had a list of names. That was all they had.

Seven names, to be exact.

Seven names of seven different people, all with varying backgrounds, because even though only three had left, Garcia had insisted that they would need to check _all_ of them.

Just in case this was some elaborate scheme with two or more people involved.

Which… honestly, at this point, JJ wouldn't even be surprised anymore.

She sighed.

This was a breach of privacy. One she wasn't exactly comfortable with.

But the chances were that one of them had taken her colleague. Her friend.

And, right now, that trumped any doubts she might be having.

"I'm not even sure what we're looking for," she muttered. They weren't profilers.

She was a liaison. Garcia was their tech analyst and, magic or not, she didn't profile either.

" _We're_ not looking for anything," Garcia reminded her. "They're going to make a profile when they get back. And we'll have this waiting for them. They'll find out who the profile fits."  
Somehow, JJ doubted it would be that easy, but she refused to put a voice to her worries.

She took another look at the names.

Only two of them stood out, but in this business, that didn't mean anything.

They spent an awful lot of time chasing after people who wouldn't stand out in a crowd. Obscure; nameless, simple. Your grocer, your best friend, your sibling, your parent, your grandparent, any one of these could be a predator, an abductor or a serial killer.

You just… never knew. It made it hard to trust normal people sometimes, especially if you were new to the type of job that the BAU provided.

"Tyler Macomb," she said aloud, " lives in the neighborhood and has a previous criminal record. He was arrested on several counts of shoplifting a few years ago." She sat back and frowned. "Would someone go from shoplifting to stalking and abducting a federal agent?"

 _And to threatening his entire team?_

She might not have been a profiler, but it didn't sound like their guy.

Garcia blinked at her. "How should I know?"

JJ sighed again and moved on to the next name. "Melissa Crawford and…" Her eyes widened. "She doesn't even live in Virginia. Garcia, this car is registered in California. _Bakersfield,_ California!"

"Where the rest of the team is," Garcia finished, breathlessly. They made eye contact.

There was no way these two cases were unrelated.

"There are two of them!" JJ exclaimed. Two working together. Which meant… "We need to call Hotch."

Garcia nodded. "Affirmative, sugar." For the first time in days, her voice carried with it a faint glimmer of that oh-so-elusive emotion... hope.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** So... I've realized that I've been forgetting to include the locations before I move on to a new scene. Eventually, I'll go back and fix that.

Thank you so much to our reviewers: Spxxxxx and Prolific Reider :)

* * *

Hotch had been walking on pins and needles ever since Garcia had called. Breaking the news to first Prentiss, and then to Morgan and Gideon, had not made him feel any better.

His phone was currently burning a hole in his pocket, as he stood to the side and allowed Morgan and Gideon to present the profile.

The phone vibrated and Hotch felt like an electric jolt had run through his body.

Pulling the phone from his pocket, he quietly excused himself from the room, checking the caller ID as he did so.

Jennifer Jareau. JJ.

She wouldn't call unless they had something about Reid's case.

As soon as he was out of ear shot, he answered, trying to keep the anxiety out of his tone.

"JJ?"

"And me too," Garcia chirped. She sounded giddy almost.

Hotch hoped that meant they had good news.

He sighed, running a hand over his eyes.

He could really use some good news right now.

"What have you got?" he asked. He didn't ask if they'd found Reid. It was too much to hope that they had.

"A name," JJ said quickly. "We have a name."

Hotch's breath caught in his throat. A name. A name was good. A name was more than they had right now. A name was a place to start.

"A Melissa Crawford," Garcia cut in. "We checked the CCTV footage of the parking lot outside Reid's apartment and the license plates on one of the vehicles were registered to one Melissa Crawford. But get this. Our Ms. Crawford doesn't live anywhere _near_ Reid's apartment." She paused before delivering the final punch. "She's a resident of Bakersfield, California. A resident who reported her license plates as stolen a little over a week ago."

"Here? But… that doesn't make sense. Reid was…" Hotch's voice trailed off. He didn't want to say the word. Abducted. So final. So impersonal. But what other word was there? He cleared his throat and carried on. "Reid was abducted in Virginia. How could the plates be from California?"

"See, that's what I thought, but here's the thing," Garcia babbled. "What if…?"

"If anything, that's our proof that there's a connection," JJ cut in.

"And it proves our theory that we're dealing with more than one unsub," Hotch said. And that they weren't just dealing with a single unsub who had multiple identities.

There were at least two physically different people involved in this.

"So what if unsub number one steals the plates and finds a way to get them here to unsub number two?" Garcia hurried on. "And then unsub number two uses the plates when he goes to kidnap Reid."

And then it hit him. "Unsub number two knew about the CCTV cameras. That's why they used the plates. He wanted us to know. It was another message."

Hotch turned his head to get a look at the other three.

Gideon seemed to be wrapping up the profile.

Several officers had already stood, preparing to leave and start their search anew.

He caught Morgan's gaze, a burning question in the other man's eyes.

Morgan was going to insist on knowing everything when Hotch hung up the phone.

"Telling us what?" JJ asked, interrupting his thought process.

It could be any number of things. "They could be taunting us, displaying their superiority. Flaunting our helplessness to save one of our own."

Or it could have been a choice.

Save the innocents. Or save Spencer Reid.

You can't save them both.

Hotch exhaled forcefully. There was nothing to indicate this would come down to that. Nothing that said they wouldn't be able to save both.

Not yet.

"Hotch," Garcia whispered. Hotch waited for her to finish. "They had you called away. They didn't want you here to interfere. Would…" she hesitated, "... would they really go through this much trouble? Just to get Reid?"

Hotch responded in the only way available to him, in a way he'd never really answered any question before.

"I don't know."

* * *

Melissa Crawford scrutinized herself in the mirror. She had a job interview. One she didn't want to screw up.

And so she had to look her best.

She chose a lipstick, one that would contrast nicely with her dark complexion.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her.

She jumped, dropping the tube into the sink.

"Damn!" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder. She wasn't expecting company.

Sighing, she brushed her hair over her shoulder and trotted into her living room.

A knock sounded now. Was she crazy for thinking it sounded urgent?  
"Coming. I'm coming," she muttered, quickening her pace till she reached the door.

There were two of them on her front porch.

She frowned. "Can I help you?"

* * *

Prentiss' mind was in a whirl, even as she and Morgan climbed the steps of Melissa Crawford's front porch.

Stolen license plates. That had been their lead. Certainly not the strangest lead, but unlikely all the same.

She rang the doorbell once and stepped back. "Stealing license plates," she said aloud. "This guy is crazy obsessed."

"Yeah, well," Morgan glanced around the neighborhood. "What else is new?"

Emily glanced back at the door. Melissa Crawford still hadn't answered. "Maybe she's not home?"

"Car's still in the driveway, though." Morgan stepped around her to knock several times. His face was hard, determined.

He wasn't going to stop until they got Reid back.

The door opened.

The middle-aged, black woman at the door frowned at them. "Can I help you?"

Prentiss plastered a smile on her face, forcing every negative thought to the back of her mind. "Melissa Crawford?"

When the woman nodded warily, she held up her badge. "My name is Special Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Special Agent Derek Morgan. We're with the FBI. You reported your license plates were stolen last week?"

Melissa goggled. "FBI? Over _license plates?"_

"Ma'am, we're going to need to ask you a couple questions…"

"I already gave a statement."  
Morgan stepped forward. "We understand, but we're going to need to get one from you too. Can you do that for us?"  
She hesitated. "I have to leave for an interview in twenty minutes."

"We can be done by then," Prentiss hastened to reassure her. "It will only take a few moments."

And so finally, the girl nodded. "Okay."

Prentiss' smile felt more genuine.

* * *

"It was dark… I didn't really get that good a look at his face." Melissa Crawford had let them in and now sat across from them both. "I heard something. Thought it was just one of the neighbors' cats. They get out, you know. But then I opened the door and _he_ was there _taking_ my license plates. What would he want with my license plates?"

"If he needed a car for something illegal," Morgan explained, "and wanted plates that wouldn't be traced back to him."

"But those are my plates!" Melissa said, alarmed. "Does that mean he's trying to frame me?"

"No one thinks you did anything," Morgan said, calming her.

Melissa took a breath. "Wish I'd gotten a better look at his face," she muttered.

"That's okay," Prentiss reassured her with a glance at Morgan. "Just tell us what you did see. Height, weight, race if you can."

Melissa shook her head. "I told you. It was dark, but he was… I think he was white? I'm pretty sure he was white."

Prentiss nodded, encouraging her to go on. "Good. That's good. Now what about his weight and height? Did he seem heavy? Tall?"

"He was… kind of tall." Melissa shrugged. "He wasn't fat, you know, but he wasn't skinny either. He had a jacket on too. Some kind of hoodie. The hood was up." She wrinkled her nose. "They always wear hoodies."  
"So average?" Morgan pressed. That wouldn't make their job any easier. But then, someone who was able to dump a body in a fairly nice neighborhood wasn't exactly someone who would be attracting a lot of attention to themselves.

"He was kind of broad around the shoulders…" Melissa tapped her own shoulders to illustrate her description. "'Looked strong. Made me afraid of what would happen if I confronted him."

"How did he walk?" Morgan asked, leaning forward.

"How did he _walk_?" Melissa repeated, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

"How did he carry himself? Did he seem nervous? Was he looking around? Like he was afraid someone was going to interrupt him?" Emily clarified.

"No. No, he didn't seem like that at all."

"Confidence," Morgan said, looking at Prentiss. "It fits the profile of a narcissist."

"The what…?" Melissa looked from one to the other. "I don't follow."

"Melissa…" Prentiss cut in, placing a hand on Melissa's knee and recapturing her attention. "'How did he react to being interrupted?"

"He looked right at me, but with the hood…" Melissa shook her head again. "His face was all in shadows. By the time I switched on the light, he was already running."

* * *

"He looked right at her," Prentiss said. They'd finished their interview with Melissa Crawford, and were heading back to the SUV. "He wasn't afraid she'd recognize him."

"That could just mean he isn't from the area," Morgan commented.

"But it's more than that," Prentiss continued. "He really doesn't think we'll catch him. He doesn't think we're _capable_ of catching him. If Melissa Crawford had gotten a better look, we could have sat her down with a sketch artist. But he wasn't afraid of that. He was willing to take that risk."

"We've already profiled that he's a narcissist." Morgan reached for the door of the SUV, keys already in his hand.

He didn't get far before he heard a popping sound, followed by shattered glass, as a hole appeared in the driver's side window of the dark van.

So much for bulletproof windows.

Morgan threw himself down automatically, dropping the keys in favor of reaching for his gun.

He drew it, rolling on his back, expecting to see a dark figure, expecting to feel the pain of a dozen bullets ripping through his flesh.

He didn't.

Instead, he saw and felt nothing.

A big fat nothing.

He turned his eyes to Prentiss. She was on the ground beside him, gun drawn, eyes wide and alarmed.

Whoever their unsub was, he was getting bolder.

Morgan scrambled to his feet. "Where could he have gone? He must have been _right there_!" He gestured angrily to the sidewalk in front of the van.

Prentiss shrugged, making an effort to slow her frantic breathing. "He's in the neighborhood. He can't be far."

The sidewalk was clear. In both directions.

That left the backyards.

Morgan broke into a run, crossing the road in several long strides.

The backyard was empty, but he caught sight of a fleeing figure rounding the bend to the street on the other side.

"Oh no, you don't," Morgan muttered, doubling his pace.

He reached the bend. " _FBI!"_

There was a screech of tires, and a dark sedan peeled away from the sidewalk.

"FBI! Don't make me shoot!"

Morgan rushed forward.

He didn't get a chance to follow through with his threat.

"Morgan!" Prentiss called. "Something's not right!"

"What?" Morgan reluctantly turned halfway to face her.

And then he heard the explosion.

* * *

 **Note:** Starshadow had her heart set on an explosion. We had a debate. Starshadow won. So now we have explosions.

Also, I'm sorry this is so late in the day (at least where I am). My Sundays have become very busy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** A very big thank you to our reviewers: AZCatmom, spxxxx and Prolific Reider. And thank you as well to everyone who has read/followed/favorited this story so far! Your support keeps us going!

And also I think Starshadow deserves another shoutout because she has been an amazing writing partner and, despite the seriousness of what we're writing, I'm having an absolute blast with her. She's great!

Another shoutout to both Meritt and Purplehood who have been the most amazing and supportive best friends and who read everything we have and are just awesome in general!

* * *

"Agent Hotchner." A young looking police officer approached him, holding out the phone. "There's someone on the line for you."

"Did the caller identify themself?" Gideon asked, looking up.

The man shook his head. "No. They're thinking it might be your, uh, what do you call it? Unsub."

Hotch felt some apprehension as he accepted it. The call didn't come on his cell, meaning it was unlikely to be a member of his team.

"Hotchner," he said, signalling for Gideon to call Garcia and have her trace the call.

"Tell me…" The voice was masculine, deep. The man on the other end was making no discernible effort to disguise it. "It's three o'clock, folks. Do you know where your agents are?" he asked, changing his voice into a perfect imitation of an old 1970s PSA newscaster.

"Who is this?" Hotch growled into the phone. Unconsciously, his fist clenched by his side, knuckles cracking. "What are you talking about?"

"That's for you to find out," the man on the other end said. "Catch me if you can, Agent Hotchner. Catch me before it's too late for Spencer Reid." The call abruptly disconnected, leaving Hotch frozen in a room that suddenly felt ten degrees colder.

"What's going on?" Gideon asked. He'd sat quietly for the entirety of the phone conversation, but Hotch could see the barely concealed tension festering just beneath the surface. "Hotch, what did he tell you?"

Still reeling from the shock of it all, Hotch said, "He threatened Reid."

* * *

"That was Melissa's home!" Prentiss exclaimed.

For a terrible moment, she had been afraid that the explosion was catastrophic enough to take the whole house with it.

She was wrong.

But that didn't make the reality before her any less tragic.

The left side of the house was decimated. A fire was beginning to spread. Ashes rose in the air like a cloud, shielding the small community from the healing light of the sun.

Already, the woman's neighbors were gathering on the street.

It amazed Prentiss how quickly the quiet neighborhood could erupt into a rush of panicked energy.

People were already gathering in the streets.

A woman stood on a porch, standing aghast with her wailing baby in her arms.

And the voices. So many voices. Pounding and pulsing.

For a moment, it seemed to Prentiss as if she were underwater, the voices struggling to reach her.

The whole situation seemed incredibly surreal.

She had seen every aspect of tragedy a hundred- no, a thousand times before.

Why did she feel like she couldn't move?

Morgan was already running.

"Out of the way! FBI! Out of the way!" He pushed through the small crowd. "Prentiss, keep them back!"

Like that, the spell was broken, Morgan's words snapping Prentiss back to the present.

She pulled out her phone, already dialing 911. "Morgan!" They had no way to know just how extensive the damage on the interior was. She wasn't eager to watch her colleague-her _friend_ \- disappear into an unknown situation.

Morgan was already inside.

A woman grabbed Emily's arm, distracting her away from Morgan. Emily hadn't even realized she was there.

"What's going on?" she asked, her eyes searching Prentiss' face. "What just happened?"

"I…" Prentiss glanced back at the house. Morgan had not reemerged. She swallowed. "I don't know," she admitted honestly.

A gasp escaped her as the woman slapped her square across the face.

Startled, Prentiss brought a hand to her cheek.

"What do you mean you don't know?" the woman demanded. "Aren't you FBI?"

For a moment, Prentiss gaped at her, unable to fully grasp what had just happened. Had that woman just slapped her?  
"Ma'am." Recovering herself, she grasped the woman's shoulders, voice tight. Resolutely, she ignored her sense of injured pride and indignation. Now wasn't the time for what felt like personal affronts. "I can assure you, we're doing everything we can to assess the situation."

"No, you're not! _You're just standing there!_ What if there are more? _What if there are more?_ "

Prentiss set her jaw. She was a professional, trained to keep it together during the heat of the moment, but she felt dangerously close to fraying.

"Ma'am," she repeated, more firmly.

Her cell phone was still in hand, but she hadn't been able to dial 911.

"Colleen!" The woman's husband pushed past his neighbors and took her hand, pulling her away from the agent and whispering something soft and soothing under his breath.

Whatever he said took effect as the woman shot Prentiss a furious glare, but allowed her husband to guide her back towards their home.

Shaking her head and directing another worried stare at the house, Prentiss dialed the number.

After ensuring that the paramedics were on their way, she hung up, slipping it into her pocket. Emily's fingers itched for her gun, for an enemy that she could actually _face,_ one that she could see and fight.

But there was nothing for her to fight, nothing for her to defend against.

The damage was already done.

And, like it or not, she couldn't just run in after him.

Her responsibility was to keep the civilians back.

And so, biting her lip, she waited.

* * *

Hotch hadn't been able to reach Morgan.

What the unsub said was still replaying in his mind.

He tried again.

This time, he picked up.

Letting out a small breath of relief, Hotch was unwilling to admit, even to himself, just how scared he'd been.

"Morgan, I've been trying to call you. Why haven't you picked up?"

"Hotch, our unsub blew up Melissa Crawford's home. And he fired on me and Prentiss."

"What?" The unfortunately familiar feeling of panic returned. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine." Morgan spoke quickly. "Prentiss is too. He hit the car. And we were far enough away from the blast."

Hotch closed his eyes briefly, thankful that two of his agents, at least, were safe. "And Melissa?"

Morgan hesitated before continuing. "It was bad, Hotch. She's still alive, but… they don't know if she's going to make it through the night."

"I understand."

Another victim.

"He called, Morgan," Hotch added.

There was a pause on the other end. Then, "What?" Morgan sounded shocked. Rightfully so.

"The unsub," Hotch continued. "He mentioned Reid."

"What? Hotch, what did he say? Is Reid still alive?"

"He told us to catch him if we can. Before it's…" He took a deep breath. "Before it's too late for Reid."

* * *

Reid woke up slowly.

The sound of soft, comforting humming floated over him. His mother was holding him and singing a lullaby.

For a second, he allowed his mind to believe it. But his mother was in Bennington Sanitarium. She'd been there for almost seven years.

She wasn't here.

Reid remembered the girl, the young girl with the little boy.

She had repeated the unsub's message.

She knew their unsub.

She had drugged him.

He had been kidnapped.

And there was definitely someone humming to him… but it wasn't his mother.

"Get off of me!" he cried out, opening his eyes as the thrill of adrenaline filled him, jerking him wide awake.

"Now, now," the woman purred, unabashed. Her brown eyes glanced up at him demurely. She had her head on his shoulder and was gently stroking his chest.

Not motherly, then. More like a sister or a girlfriend. Abandonment issues?

Reid wondered whether he should play along with her or protest, but she profiled as rather unstable.

Better to listen and gather information instead of reacting.

The woman chuckled, stretching and realigning herself in her chair. She had pulled it up beside him, and had been leaning over on it when Reid woke up.

She was dressed in a casually feminine manner, slim red slacks and a scoop neck blouse. A light gray knit jacket was draped over her shoulders.

She was, as reluctant as Reid was to admit it, quite beautiful.

It was this beauty that made her so terrifying to him.

She sat primly, one leg gracefully placed over the other, tapping her foot in the air. Making eye contact with him, she gave him an expectant smile.

It was Reid's turn to make a move.

"You look lovely." Reid assessed the situation, noting that her behavior was indicative as a desire for attention. So he gave her what she wanted.

The woman blushed, most likely making a bid at modesty.

Reid recognized the woman as the same one who had kidnapped him, but she seemed… different. Her wardrobe was not the only thing that had changed. Her posture, her facial expressions, her demeanor, the gleam in her eyes… it was all different.

She looked like she had aged ten years, shedding the previous child-like innocence in the process and replacing it with one of smug disdain.

All so very unstable.

Reid felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck.

There was only one light in the basement; it hung from a string several feet above him. It illuminated the scene poorly, casting erie shadows on the walls around Reid.

The woman stood up abruptly. Her two-inch high heels aided her distinct femininity; her hips swayed gently as she walked. She was doing everything in her power to make herself desirable, but in a modest way; there was little to no sexual element that Reid could see.

"I need something from you, Spence," the woman murmured. Her gaze was fixed on her own fingers, almost like she was examining underneath her fingernails.

Only JJ called Reid by that nickname.

It was special.

Almost sacred.

How dare she?

He felt a surge of anger rise up in him, but he swallowed it down.

"Spence?" he said, playing along. "Ah… c-come on now, that's not…" he swallowed, "...not fair. If… you get the pleasure of knowing my name, the least you could do is tell me yours."

She turned, gently sweeping a loose curl of dark hair back over her shoulder. She touched an index finger to her lips, pondering her decision.

"My name," she finally said, "is Selene." Her tone was grand, magnanimous, as if she were proclaiming herself to be royalty.

Reid nodded. Selene. Assuming this was her real name, he had something to go on now. He was already compiling a list of criteria for Penelope to search up.

That is, if he made it back to the BAU alive.

"Well then… Selene" Her name tasted bitter on his tongue, but he spoke it anyways. "What do you need?"

Her smile brightened and she rushed over to him, kneeling on the floor by his side. She rested her hands on the arm of his chair and gazed adoringly upward.

"I'm so, _so_ happy!" she practically squealed. "I'm so glad you're willing to help me. I really do need your help, you know. You're _so_ important to me, Spencer. You're the key to all of this."

Reid gulped, narrowing his eyes.

The woman had a crazy light in her eyes, one that suggested at least part of her believed what she was saying.

"No, I'm… I'm not! I'm not the key to anything, I just… if you untie me, we can have an honest conversation. I'll tell you anything you want, just let me go."

The gleam faded from her eyes. Her smile drooped into a pensive frown. Her eyebrows dipped downward violently.

Reid tensed, unsure of what to expect.

"Spencer, dearest, don't you care about me?" she whispered.

"I…" Reid began, but she had turned her back to him, shifting through one of the boxes stacked on the floor.

When she turned back around, she was holding a knife in her hand.

His words died in his throat.

"I've always thought that tables were a bit cliche," she said casually, as if she felt the need to explain herself. "But sometimes cliches can be charming. Or at least I've always thought so." She shrugged her shoulders. "What do you think, Spencer?"

"Put that away!" he cried, finding his voice again. He tried to force at least an ounce of authority into his voice.

Selene casually glanced at him, not in the least concerned, trailing her finger along the dagger's edge. "Why?" she asked, as if he had proposed a counterargument in a debate, not as if he were pleading for his life.

"Because… I… I won't talk to you if I'm being threatened," Reid said defensively.

Selene raised an eyebrow, directing only a small glance toward him. She began to pace around, fiddling with the dagger. She pressed the blade to her bottom lip, thinking.

"I've tortured plenty of people, Spencer dear. You are by no means my first. You know," she punctuated her statement by waving the knife in the air dramatically. "A few people have prefaced their… shall we say, session, with a declaration that they wouldn't tell me a thing if I tortured them. Do you know how many were resilient? Go ahead, take a guess. I know how fond you are of statistics."

"Zero," Reid whispered weakly.

Selene gave him a knowing wink. "You're catching on!"

She leaned in close to him. "And I'm so _terribly_ proud of you," she breathed.

He turned away from her, fighting his inner panic.

"Hmm… where'd I put that whip?" Selene murmured, dropping the dagger in the middle of the floor and gliding behind Reid.

She sounded delighted.

Reid struggled against his bonds, his heart racing faster and faster with every beat.

"Aha! Here it is!"

A sound like a gunshot rang out behind him.

He flinched in his seat, his brain processing the sound as the echo of a bullwhip being slammed against cement flooring.

She wouldn't dare to whip him in such close quarters… would she?

He got his answer in the form of an excruciating pain slashing his arm, opening a long, deep cut.

Reid bit his tongue to keep from crying out.

Selene put her hands on her hips, allowing the whip to drag on the ground. "Come now, it's much more fun if you scream." She sounded irritated.

She whirled the whip over her head, then forced it down with a deafening _Crack!_

This one landed on his shoulder.

Reid couldn't suppress a groan, cringing.

Selene smiled, giving the whip a playful little snap that cut into his cheek.

"Open your eyes," she crooned.

Reid refused, shutting them tighter.

Selene didn't take kindly to that.

She picked up the knife from the floor, advancing on him. She stalked closer, taking her time. She was in control, and she wanted-no, she _needed_ him to know that.

Jabbing the knife under his chin, she cracked the whip on the ground once more.

He flinched, opening his eyes and meeting hers.

"There we go," Selene murmured, flashing a wicked grin.

All of a sudden, however, a change came over. She looked at his wounds, dripping with blood and wetting his shirt sleeves, and seemed almost… horrified.

She dropped the knife and the whip simultaneously, taking his head in her hands and caressing it ever so gently.

"What happened to you?" she whispered, her brown eyes filled with concern. She leaned her forehead against his; a tear slipped down her own cheek.

"I promise, I'll make this better. Don't worry, dear one. I'll keep you safe."

Reid pressed his body against the back of the chair, trying to keep her as far from him as possible.

He kept his wild eyes trained on her, breathlessly fearful of her volatility.

She stroked his hair, pushing several sweaty locks away from his forehead. "It'll be okay. I'll fix you right up."

Black spots were dancing in his eyes. He only barely registered that she was talking to him.

Selene leaned back, her demeanor having changed once more. She was no longer a cold dominatrix.

She seemed genuinely concerned and loving.

It was terrifying.

"What… what did you want from me, Selene?" Reid asked, as she turned to go.

She straightened.

Her head whipped around, and she gave him a ghoulish grin, seeming to revert almost instantaneously.

"Shh." She put her finger to her lips. "You're giving it to me right now, Spence. Just keep doing what you're doing. You're doing great."

Her shoulders slumped once more, and her eyes softened.

"Hang in there!" Selene said softly, directing a gentle smile toward him, before disappearing up the stairs.

Reid's mind was reeling. Why did she seem so familiar? It wasn't her voice or her looks; he'd never seen her before in his life. What was it?

It dawned on him, such a depressing realization.

He knew who she reminded him of.

At first he had prayed that this would be different, that this kidnapper would never be like his previous one.

That he would never have to deal with that volatility again.

That that legacy could remain locked in his nightmares.

He couldn't, however.

Selene, split, unstable, ever-changing, reminded him of Tobias Hankel.

Reid would never be able to escape his nightmares.

They had become reality.

Again.

* * *

 **Note:** Well... perhaps not the best of places to leave poor Reid... and all of you... hanging.

And another brief note, on the off chance that any of you reading this latest chapter might also be reading _Three AM_ , the next chapter for that is coming. I just had to dedicate a little time to some of my other works.

And now it's off to rewatch _The Lord of the Rings_ with my brothers! ;)

Thank you, as always, for your time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** A thank you to our reviewers: Prolific Reider and jvarmgr.

* * *

She always answered His calls on the first ring.

There had been three rings so far.

And now a fourth.

An anxiety He refused to acknowledge gnawed at His chest.

She picked up finally, Her voice sweet as ever as she cooed. "It's been too long since you last called, Darling."

When He failed to answer immediately, She continued, "Did something happen, Precious? Surely, you aren't angry."  
He relaxed. "I could never be angry with you, Selene," He hastened to reassure Her. "I was just… a little worried. I had feared that something had happened to you."

She giggled, cherubic in tone. "Have no worries, Sweetheart. Nothing is ever going to happen to me."  
He smiled. "Of course not. And the guest?"

Her tone turned sour. "He doesn't appreciate my hospitality. The ungrateful _brat,"_ She hissed.

He chuckled. "But you'll teach him of course."

He could almost hear Her smile. "Of course."  
As much as He loved hearing Her voice, He had called for a reason. It was time to move on. "You're going to have to take the next step," He told Her. "It's time."

She pouted. "But we're only just getting acquainted!"

A note of jealousy crept into His voice. "Don't get… too acquainted, Beloved."

She sensed His change of emotion, basking in it. "Of course not," She soothed, easing His ruffled feathers as only She could. "But you're moving too fast. I want it to last."

He leaned forward, gripping the phone tightly. He tried to banish Her previous complaint from his mind, but Her petulant voice echoed in his brain. "I... blew up the witness today." He smiled, trying to relive the experience in His mind.

That moment when He had felt so in control.

The FBI man and his woman had been there.

They had been so close.

And yet they hadn't caught Him.

He'd _fired_ at them.

Hit their car.

They'd seen Him.

And they still hadn't caught Him.

It was exhilarating.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a delighted gasp. "Always so violent!" she observed, with cheerful approval.

There was another pause, this time treading into the realm of awkward.

"They have no idea." He spoke again, breaking the silence. She seemed… less enthusiastic than when They had last talked. This worried Him. He felt a surge of panic.

He was losing control.

He was Superior.

He was a god.

He desperately tried to convince himself of this fact.

"You should have seen it." He laughed nervously. "They're so desperate, so helpless. They have no idea who we are. What we can do together."

"Mhmm," She murmured in response.

"You're coming home soon, aren't you?" When She spoke next, She sounded wistful.

"Wouldn't you rather me stay here, so you get to play with your little pet? What are you doing to him now? Have you kissed him? Did you comfort him, Selene? The way you like to comfort me?" Blake snarled, His control of both Himself and the situation suddenly falling to pieces.

There was another long pause before Selene finally spoke again. Only this time, She was furious.

"Excuse you? Listen up, Precious," She spat. Liquid fire, that was His girl.

Her voice hushed into a low I-mean-business growl. "I'm going to pretend that the California sun has knocked off a few points of that IQ of yours. Only mortals conduct themselves in such an embarrassing manner as that. You're not worthy of being my _slave_ , nevermind my _husband_. And to think, I once gave you the world! You can take your ring back, you filthy bastard!" She screamed.

He could faintly hear the clink of a small metallic object being carelessly dropped onto tiled floor.

Blake squeezed the phone so hard his knuckles went white. He was breathless with rage.

"Selene, you put that ring back on your finger this instant!" He demanded.

"Make me," She murmured, suddenly calm. "Show me the Big Boy I know you can be. I don't love you when you doubt me like this, you know that. How could I be blamed for your suspicion and jealousy?"

"You had better love Me all the time, Dove. It is your job as My wife."

She laughed coquettishly. "And it is your job as a husband to _be_ _lovable_ , Dear One."

His grip on the cell phone lessened. A smile came unbidden to his lips.

"I'm always lovable," He said, both to Her and to Himself.

"There's my Blake!" She cheered. "What took you so long, Handsome?"

His confidence was restored in a flood. He turned his thoughts to those amateurish detectives. They were scrambling around, always so many steps behind him.

It was like watching ants.

There was only one of Him, and a thousand of the ants.

And He still came out on top.

"I've had a lot on my mind," He told Her.

"Now, I ask again, when are you coming home?" Selene demanded. Oh, how He loved Her!

"Soon, Baby," He assured Her.

But as much as He loved Her… He had something else to do before returning to Her arms.

And secretly, He wanted to stay. He wanted to watch the little ants panic.

He wanted to watch the world burn… and not just Melissa Crawford's world.

"Let me have some more fun first though."

He smiled slyly to Himself at the thought.

* * *

When David Callahan marched into the office that morning, he looked beyond angered. And rightfully so.

They'd promised to solve his case for him and, so far, they'd done just the opposite.

Hotch turned to face him.

"Melissa Crawford is dead," he spat as soon as he was within ear shot.

"I'm sorry to hear that…" Hotch began.

"I knew her." Callahan cut him off. "She went to the same church as my wife. Melissa and Rachel were pretty much best friends. What am I supposed to tell her?"

"I'm sorry," Hotch said. It wasn't enough. Those two words would never be enough, but he meant them.

Callahan shook his head. "How close are you too catching this bastard?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, not close enough."

The man gave him a sharp glare. "I thought you guys were supposed to be good at this."  
"We are," Hotch answered. "But being good and being unbeatable are two entirely different things."

"So you're saying you can't catch him."

"I didn't say that," Hotch corrected him.

"It sure as hell sounded like you did to me."

"What I meant is that we need to find a way to outsmart him."  
"Yeah?" Callahan looked him dead in the eye. "And how do you plan to do that?"  
Gideon stepped forward. "Detective Callahan," he said placatingly, "I can assure you that my team is doing everything we can. But we need you to let us do our job."

"This man shot at your agents. They saw him. They saw him right before he blew up Melissa and they still allowed him to get away." Callahan pointed out angrily, still dissatisfied. "Just how are you doing your jobs?"

As hard as it was, Hotch didn't let himself get defensive. The detective's concerns were legitimate.

"Morgan and Prentiss are working on a geological profile as we speak," he told him, wincing inwardly.

Reid was the one who almost always compiled the geographical profiles.

"What does that mean?" Callahan grumbled, shaking Hotch clear of his gloomy thoughts.

"It means working out the unsub's comfort zone, to pinpoint where he's living. Or where he's staying."

The man processed that. Then, softer now, he asked, "Do you really still think a local is doing this? Isn't that what you said when you checked out the crime scene? That you thought a local was doing this?"

"That was our original thought."

"And now what do you think?"

"Now," Hotch said, sharing a glance with Gideon, "we're not so sure."

"Why? What changed?"

Hotch shared a glance with Gideon, wondering how much to divulge.

"Seeing as this is my investigation and my community this man has chosen to terrorize," Callahan had crossed his arms, a clear issue of a challenge, "I'd like to think that I'd have the right to know what you've come up with so far."

Hotch rubbed two fingers between his brow, suddenly wishing for JJ's help in smoothing things over with the detective. "You're right and…"

"And?"

"And we think he might have a partner."

"A partner? This psycho has a partner? What does that mean for us?"

Hotch took a deep breath. He hadn't wanted to share any more than he had to, but Detective Callahan had a point. He deserved to know what they had on this case. "One of our agents was abducted back in Quantico after we arrived here," he said. "We have reason to believe that these two cases are connected."

"Connected?" Callahan's eyes widened slightly. "As in…?"  
"As in this unsub has a partner is working with him from across the country."

"I don't believe this." Callahan exhaled. He looked back at Hotch. "How long will it take you to find this son of a bitch?"

Gideon answered him. "There's really no way to be able to tell you that for certain, Detective."

"Why did he go through all this trouble?" Hotch asked, when they were finally alone. "Why all this trouble to seperate us?"

Gideon pressed his lips together, frowning deeply. "It's a simple strategy. Divide... and then conquer."

* * *

 **Note:** So... I'm not sure if anyone would have been offended by Blake referring to Emily Prentiss as Morgan's woman, but just in case, I'm going to make a brief little note. That's Blake's take on things, not ours.

No Reid this chapter. Sorry. But we'll be seeing him next Sunday.

And Reid's not going to be the only agent in danger before this is over. ;)

Thanks for reading as always and see you all next Sunday!


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:** Because this Sunday is Easter Sunday, I am posting this chapter early.

A special word of thanks to our lovely reviewers: Prolific Reider and Pita Cake. Your kind words are very much appreciated.

 **Warning!** Some graphic and disturbing imagery for this chapter. Nothing happens. I repeat: _nothing actually happens._ However, there are still some threats made, one of which involves a child, so be warned.

* * *

Reid tested his bonds for what must have been the tenth time in past half an hour.

He'd already known they weren't going to give, but he had to do something.

The pain of his wounds from before hadn't gone away entirely, but it had lessened, settling to a dull ache that he welcomed after the sharp sting of the whip.

The basement door creaked open again, and he cringed back instinctively. His injuries seemed to throb with a greater intensity, though, he knew, that was surely a trick of the mind.

Selene reached the bottom of the stairs. She held a white box in her hands.

Reid recognized it almost immediately as a first aid kit.

So… she had hurt him and now she was coming to heal him.

She approached wordlessly, seeming almost meek now.

Reid watched her warily, knowing enough that this was just another game for her.

He knew how quickly she could change.

"That looks like it hurts," she said, speaking for the first time since she'd come down. She was smiling, almost hopefully, as she knelt by his side, cracking open the box.

He didn't answer.

Accepting his silence, she applied something to the wound on his arm.

The pain flared up again and he hissed between clenched teeth. He wanted to pull away from her, to prevent her from touching him, but there was nowhere for him to go.

Logically, too, he knew she was helping him, keeping the danger of infection at bay.

It didn't mean he had to like it.

"What do you want?" he asked finally.

Selene stood and moved around so she was standing before him. She was smiling again, now as if satisfied of some victory.

Reid wondered why that might be, even as he felt a sliver of panic sliding into his heart.

"I told you, Spencer," she said. "I want your help. Do you think you're ready? "

In her hands, she held a few slips of paper.

Selene placed one on his lap, allowing him to read it.

"Read it carefully, Dr. Reid. I want you to remember every word." She tilted her head, brown hair spilling over her shoulder. "Not that that should be a problem for you." She gave him a girlish smile.

It was a note, or, more accurately, it was a script.

He blanched when he saw what was written, what he was expected to say, what he was to _do_.

"No," he whispered. He couldn't keep his voice from shaking. "No. Not her. Please, not her. Leave them alone. _Please!_ I… I _can't."_

Reid didn't care if he was begging. He didn't care if that was, essentially, giving her exactly what she wanted.

He wouldn't- _couldn't_ -do this.

Not to her.

He couldn't betray her.

Not like this.

Not at all.

She knelt again, this time so she could look up at him, placing her hand on his knee.

Reid shuddered at the contact.

"I thought you might say that," she told him. "So I have a counter offer to make."

She held up a photograph, this one of a woman and child together.

They were taking a walk, the woman smiling down at the child she held the hand of.

They were both completely oblivious to their stalker.

A chill ran down Reid's spine as sudden terror gripped his heart.

He recognized them immediately.

 _No. She couldn't._

"I know where the Hotchner family lives," she told him, leaning forward almost eagerly. She took his chin, gently forcing him to look her in the eyes. "How would your superior feel if it were his beautiful Haley, or perhaps dear little Jack, here with you instead? And what if he knew it was your fault? He might never forgive you." She chuckled, leaning in close till her lips brushed his ear, as she whispered, "He might even kill you himself. And all because you wouldn't sacrifice a member of his team," she glanced down at the photograph. Automatically, Reid did too. "...for the sake of his family," she continued.

"No!" Reid pulled away from her and she stepped back, her eyes laughing at him, enjoying his predicament.

"What will it be, Spencer?" she asked. "You're going to have to choose. And choose quickly because if you don't, I will go to their house. I know Haley will open the door for me. After all, what reason would she have to suspect anything? And then I will gut her, her and little Jack. I'll slice her up and watch as her blood spurts and sprays all over her precious little son, and then I'll pick him up and I'll throw him against the wall, again and again and again!"

Reid winced, shrinking back with every repetition, tears in his eyes.

"I'll bash that precious little head against the wall," she whispered in his ear, "until those smart little brains don't work anymore."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Reid murmured feverishly, panicking. He couldn't close his eyes. All he could see were the poor little broken bodies. He couldn't open his eyes. All he could see was her.

"And I'll make sure she knows who's responsible before she dies," she continued, her breathy whisper tickling his ear. "She'll know who to thank for her pain."

She straightened.

"And how do you think Aaron will feel when he comes home and learns that you could have prevented their murder? You're not his family, Spencer. You never have been. Why would he care that you didn't have a choice? All he'll know is that the two most important people in the world to him are _dead._ " Her voice had increased in its intensity. She was angry. Furious. At what, he could only guess. "He'll need somebody to blame. And you'll be the easiest target."

It no longer seemed like she was talking about him.

Whatever was at the root of her anger, it was deeply personal.

Selene clasped her hands together, the anger suddenly fading.

She seemed almost demure now, girlish in her simplicity.

"Would it make you feel any better if I promised not to hurt your friend?"

"You're lying," Reid said. He was shaking, his entire body trembling like leaves in a windstorm. He swallowed thickly. "You'll tell me you won't hurt her because you want me to go along with you, but you're lying. You're lying. You're going to hurt her anyways."  
"Aw, Spencer. Now you're just hurting my feelings. Do you really not believe me?"

She moved behind him and gripped his shoulder tightly, painfully.

Reid clenched his teeth as she leaned over him, continuing, "Have no doubt, Spencer," she hissed. "I meant what I said. I will kill them. Both of them." She fingered the edge of the photograph. "I'm sure you've already figured out how much I love photography. I'm good at it too. Did you know I studied it in college?" She let the picture fall to the ground. "I'll make it last. And I will show you. Every. Bloody. Detail when I'm done."

Selene stepped away from him.

"I'll leave you to think on it then."

She turned on her heel, casually crushing the photograph underfoot.

She cast one look behind her when she reached the stairs. "Have a good night, Dr. Reid."

Then she disappeared.

Reid's eyes traveled down to the picture.

The mother and son looked so peaceful, so happy, enjoying time to themselves.

Selene had violated something sacred when she had snapped that photo.

Reid closed his eyes, suddenly unable to hold back his tears.

He knew what he had to do.

He just prayed he could be forgiven for his part.

* * *

 **Note:** So like I said at the top, this chapter is coming early. This will not upset our previously settled updating schedule however, and chapter eleven will be coming the chapter after Easter.

Speaking of which... HAPPY EASTER EVERYBODY! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Note:** Acknowledgement and thanks to our reviewers: Spxxx and Prolific Reider. You guys are fabulous!

* * *

"Please tell me you have good news," Garcia said, spinning her office chair around to face JJ as she entered. "I've been sitting in this office, feeling useless. And I do _not_ like feeling useless, especially… especially when someone I love is in danger, so I could _really_ use some good news right now."

"They didn't find any prints," JJ said, lips tight.

"What?" Garcia stared blankly at her.

"The CSI's. They didn't find anything in Reid's apartment. No prints. Nothing. And that was definitely Reid's blood on the photograph." JJ sniffed and wiped at her eyes, taking a seat next to Garcia.

"What about the neighbors?" Garcia asked. "Didn't they… didn't they ask if anyone had seen anything?"

"No one saw or heard anything." JJ shook her head. "Have you heard from Hotch?"

"I'm still waiting for him to call." Garcia lifted a pen off her desk, rolling it between her fingers. "There are no security cameras in his building," she added. "If there were, maybe he would have showed up and I could have… I could have run his face and maybe we'd have something other than a couple of license plates and a Melissa Crawford and…"  
"Garcia." JJ took her hand, holding it gently. "You're doing what you can. No one's going to expect anymore from you. And you found the name, the connection. They're going to catch this guy and when they do, they'll make him tell us where Reid is."

Garcia gave her hand a tight squeeze. "I should be doing more. He could be hurt or dead or…"

The phone rang, ending her sentence prematurely.

Garcia froze, mouth agape, before releasing JJ's hand and clutching at the phone as if it were a lifeline.

She put the line on speaker, remembering JJ's presence.

"Hotch?" she answered. "Do you have news? Please tell me you have news!"

"It's nothing good." Hotch's tone was faintly apologetic. He sounded weary more than anything. That was something Garcia could understand. "Our unsub has killed again. Melissa Crawford."

Garcia's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no…" In the back of her mind, she wondered if it was somehow their fault. It was irrational. She knew that. Or… she thought she knew that. But the thought was still there.

"Stop that. It's not your fault," Hotch said, as if reading her mind. "Morgan and Prentiss were at the scene when… when he blew up her house."

Garcia gasped, shooting a look at JJ and seeing her own devastation and shock mirrored there.

"Neither of them were hurt," Hotch continued, no doubt seeing where her thought process was taking her, "but they got a look at his vehicle. I'm going to need you to see if you can pick it up on any traffic cameras. Find out where he went."

She nodded, already typing away furiously, glad that there was something she could finally do. "Describe it for me."

Hotch did.

Despite everything that had happened, she felt herself smiling. "Alright, baby, now we're in business. If this cretin shows up anywhere one of these things, I'll be able to track him all the way to Timbuktu if I have to."

* * *

"This makes… no sense."

"You expected it to?"

"Well, no," Morgan defended himself halfheartedly from Prentiss' barb. "But I mean…" He stared at the map a few more seconds, than planted both his hands on the table, lowering his head. "Damnit. We could really use Reid about now."

But they didn't have Reid and he'd only drive himself crazy if he kept reminding himself of that.

The shrill ringing of his phone in his pocket was an almost welcome distraction.

He answered it. "Talk to me." He didn't tack anything playful onto the end. Now was not the time for such things.

"'Derek," Garcia said. It didn't seem like she was in the mood either, "you didn't tell me that he shot at you!"

Morgan closed his eyes, sucking in a breath. She must have panicked when she heard that. She must have been so terrified. Especially with Reid missing. "I'm sorry, baby girl…"

"You could have died! And I… I…"

"Garcia," Morgan interjected gently, "I'm fine. We both are." He hesitated before asking, "Do you have something for us?"

Prentiss glanced up with interest, and Morgan hit speaker phone so she could listen in as well.

"So you know how Hotch asked me to check local traffic cams for any sign of your dark van? I managed to pick it up on three different cameras in the area before losing it."

Morgan frowned. "I thought this was supposed to be good news…"

"It _is_ good news," Garcia continued. "See, there's a blind spot. An area with no cameras whatsoever and it lasts several blocks. I checked the footage of all the cameras at the edge of that section. Your guy never leaves the blind spot."

Morgan sighed. "Garcia, he could have just switched cars."

"I thought of that, so I did a little research. And guess what just so happens to be located right in that blind spot? The Snooze Resort."

"The what?" Morgan blinked.

"It's a hotel, Morgan. A poorly named one, I'll admit, because honestly, how many brain cells did they waste, but a hotel."

"But…"

"But that might be where this creep is spending his nights," Garcia cut in before he could get very far. "And even if he's not staying there and it turns out to be a _major_ coincidence, you could still find the car he used. There might be prints. A name. _Something_ that leads back to him."

Morgan was silent for a moment, before shaking his head. "You're right."

"I'm always right, darling." He could hear the smile in her voice.

It brought one to his own lips.

"Now go find this creep," Garcia said, "and make him pay."

"You know I will, baby."

* * *

"It's time, sweetheart," Selene whispered softly, gently smoothing his hair back. Crouching down till she was at eye level, she rubbed a thumb over his tear stained cheek. "Are you ready to help me?"

* * *

Garcia clenched her fingers around the steering wheel as she pulled out of the parking lot.

She knew that, despite her own reluctance, Morgan was right.

She'd be of no help to Reid or to them if she let herself slide so far that she couldn't keep her eyes open.

She needed to rest.

JJ was still inside. Unfortunately, as a liason, she still had several tasks that needed to be taken care of.

Penelope had felt guilty leaving her, but JJ had promised that it wouldn't take longer than half an hour.

And so she'd finally caved, gotten in her car and left.

She was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep though.

How could she?  
If she closed her eyes, she might see…

Garcia couldn't help the shiver that ran through her body.

She'd seen the photographs from hundreds of crimes scenes.

And as much as she tried to keep herself inside her happy bubble, she knew what people could do.

What some of them were capable of.

And with Reid gone, in the hands of someone like that, how could anyone of them ever sleep again?

She was maybe halfway on her way to her apartment when the phone rang.

Garcia grabbed for it. It could be JJ or Hotch. It could be something important.

She brought it up, thumb hovering over the accept button, and couldn't help glancing at the caller ID.

She gasped, nearly dropping her phone and swerving the car.

She fumbled, recovering both her phone and her ability to drive in the same instant.

Vaguely, Garcia was grateful that there weren't many drivers on the road at this time, but that feeling faded as soon as she brought the phone to her ear.

"Reid?!"

"G-Garcia?" His voice sounded hoarse. He sounded like he was in pain.

"Reid? Yes! Yes, it's me!" The relief at hearing his voice- of finally, _finally_ knowing he was alive, was nearly overwhelming. Garcia didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So she did a little of both. "Where are you? Are you okay? Please, tell me he didn't hurt you."

Garcia brought the word vomit abruptly to a halt before it could proceed any further. She needed to hear him respond.

There was a pause, during which she could hear his breathing, rapid and unsteady.

He was probably still terrified.

And she couldn't blame him in the least.

"I'm…" He swallowed audibly and his voice shook. "I'm at the park. Locust Shade," he clarified. Even scared out of his mind, he had the presence of mind to clarify.

And like that she knew where he was. And she was close! Exhilaratingly close!

She was going to get her baby back! She was… she was...

"Okay, okay," she said breathlessly, interrupting the flow of her thoughts. "I'm five minutes away. Just sit tight and…"  
"Garcia," he interrupted her, "he's going after JJ next."

"What?" Something cold washed over her, slithering through her insides.

"JJ." He was crying now. She was sure of it. "He's going after JJ. I'm _sorry!"_

He was apologizing now.

What did he think he had to apologize for? Did he somehow think this was his fault?  
A hard anger boiled inside of her, even as her heart broke.

"Reid, honey," she kept her tone soothing, hoping she could calm him, but she could feel her tone wavering, on the verge of tears herself, "you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm almost there." She'd thought that fact would reassure him. It didn't. If anything, it only seemed to make him cry harder. "Just hold on."

As much as she hated to lose contact with him, she knew she had to call JJ, had to warn her. "Reid," she said, speaking quickly, but with as much reassurance as she can muster, "I need to hang up now. I'm going to call JJ, okay? But I'm right around the corner. I promise, I'm coming to get you."

She thought she heard a mumbled response from Reid, but she couldn't be sure.

It was too soft.

"Reid?"

"Okay. I'll… I'll be okay." His voice was still weak, still trembling. "Call JJ."

She hesitated… and then she ended the call. As much as she hated to do so, as much as she hated to lose that connection to Reid, she needed to call JJ.

She'd be seeing Reid soon, too, she reminded herself.

They were getting him back.

But if they got him back only to lose another right after.

They had no idea how many people were involved in this… this plot against them.

Even now JJ could be leaving work, tired, worried and completely unsuspecting.

Garcia swallowed, completely terrified at the idea.

She had to warn her.

She pulled her car over to the side, having reached her destination, and dialed JJ, even as she exited the vehicle.

She pressed it to her ear, listening to it ring and scanning for Reid at the same time.

Inwardly, Penelope cursed the portion of her brain that had assumed she would lay eyes on him as soon as she pulled over.

The real world didn't work that way.

JJ wasn't answering either.

"Don't do this to me, Jayge," she pleaded. "Not now."

"Garcia?" JJ answered finally and Garcia gasped in relief, bringing a hand to her mouth.

"JJ, where are you?"

She could hear the confusion as JJ spoke next. "I'm just leaving. Why? Garcia, what is this about?"

"He's coming after you!"

"What? Who is?"

"Our unsub. Or one of them. The one down here. With Reid."

Even as she spoke, she walked hurriedly, keeping her eyes peeled.

"What do you mean? How do you know this?" Garcia was acutely aware of the tension in JJ's voice as soon as Reid was mentioned.

"I know it sounds crazy, but he called me and…"

"You heard from Reid?!" JJ latched onto the name, voice raising in pitch. "How?"  
"He said he escaped."

Garcia was still looking.

She didn't see him anywhere, which didn't make sense.

Garcia had seen the team take on cases where bodies had been found hidden in national parks, parks so huge it was a miracle any remains had been recovered at all.

But this wasn't like that.

This wasn't a huge park. There was a playground, some benches. That was it.

And she wasn't looking for a body.

She was looking for Reid.

Reid who had escaped and was alive and was _okay._

But she didn't see him anywhere.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Someone tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned, distantly aware that JJ was still calling her name.

A young woman was standing there. She tilted her head, studying Garcia.

"Can I help you?" she asked, flashing a genuine smile. "It's just I'm here so often and you look kind of lost."  
"Penelope!" JJ's voice in her ear snapped her out of her stupor.

"I'm here, JJ. It's okay. Just… give me a second," she reassured her, before her attention was drawn back to the woman. "I'll call you back," she said and hung up.

Her phone rang again, almost instantly. JJ was trying to call her back.

She was probably worried sick, wondering what on earth Penelope was getting herself into.

JJ would be furious at her for that when she got back, but she couldn't worry about that right now.

"I need to find my… my friend." She couldn't help the way her voice wavered, the way her bottom lip trembled. She was more emotional than the profilers.

Garcia didn't know what made her trust the woman's offer to help. Maybe she thought the woman could really help her. Maybe it was the idea of safety in numbers.

Whatever it was, Garcia found herself accepting.

"Wait!" the woman called before she could move on.

Garcia stopped, looking at the woman searchingly.

She smiled, tilting her head again. There was something distinctly birdlike in the movement.

But at the same time something felt wrong.

It was in her smile.

"There's something you should know," she said in the tone of one apologizing for something they have yet to do.

"My name is Selene."


	12. Chapter 12

**Note:** So... obviously this was supposed to be up yesterday. However, due to... events in real life, I completely forgot to edit and post this. I apologize.

Special thanks to our reviewers: guest, Spxxxxx, and Prolific Reider.

* * *

Garcia stared at her dumbly.

Was that supposed to mean something to her?

In any other situation, she would have only thought about what a beautiful name it was.

And it was a beautiful name.

Selene.

It had a sort of elegant, refined beauty to it. Like the word "serene". Calming. Soothing.

Yet somehow, in her mannerisms, there was a hidden danger lurking behind it. A viciousness.

Like a tiger.

Selene watched her carefully, gauging her reaction.

Then she held her hands out, palms up.

"Spencer sends his regards."

Penelope found her voice. "You have him." It came out as a breathy, horrified whisper.

She was fixed in place, eyes glued to the woman before her.

She'd been standing with Reid's kidnapper.

Selene placed her hand delicately on her collarbone, seeming both surprised and pleased. "My, my, Penny dear! You figured it out remarkably quickly. The BAU _really_ doesn't give you enough credit, do they?" she asked sympathetically.

Garcia reached for her phone. She didn't know why she did it.

There was no way she was going to be able to call JJ.

Not in time.

Selene lashed out, snatching the phone from Garcia's hand.

Garcia flinched, a yelp escaping before she could control herself.

"Not so fast," Selene purred.  
She pocketed the phone, her fingers trailing down to Garcia's elbow.

She kept her hand there as she withdrew something else from her pocket.

Garcia's breath caught in her throat when she saw what it was.

Selene held out Reid's badge.

"You want to see him again, don't you?" she asked innocently.

Garcia nodded wordlessly. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"Then come with me." The hand was no longer merely resting on her elbow. Selene suddenly gripped her arm as if she intended to physically guide her away from the area.

It occurred to her that she could call for help.

There weren't very many people in the park this late in the day, only a couple of evening joggers, but if she drew attention to them…

She gave up on the idea almost as quickly as she had formed it.

When Garcia didn't immediately move, Selene looped her arm through hers, leaning in close. "Come with me now or you'll never see him alive again," she whispered. Her smile twisted to a slant. "I promise you that."

Garcia's breathing was getting heavier. She felt frozen in place. She couldn't keep her eyes off of Selene, off of those cold eyes.

"Come with me," Selene repeated. "It's your choice, but if you don't comply, I promise you, I will make him scream. And I will make you listen to every minute of it."

She removed her hand from Penelope's arm and took a step back. She waited. One hand on her hip, one hand dangling at her side.

Penelope bit her lip. Did she even have a choice?

"I'll come with you," she whispered softly. A few tears slipped out of her eyes, as she stared at the ground.

Selene clapped her hands giddily. "Yay!" She could have been a child at a birthday party. Her innocent, gleeful little grin shone out of her face.

It was terrifying to see that level of joy on the face of a kidnapper and potential murderer.

"Come on, come on, so much to do, so little time to do it in. We're gonna have the best time of our lives, you know?" Selene tugged Garcia forward. "I'm gonna take you home and use the both of you as bait for Jenny-bear, and then I'm going to give Blake the go-ahead to kill Agent Morgan, and-oh, dear. Did that hit a soft spot?"

Garcia stared at her with wide, horrified eyes. "You… you can't… I won't…"

Selene tapped her finger against her lip. "You agreed to come with me peacefully, Penny Darling. You aren't going back on your word, are you?"

Penelope dug in her heels like a stubborn mule. She opened her mouth to call for help, despite her earlier misgivings toward doing so.

"Apparently you are," Selene hissed. She shrugged. "Well, a dead FBI hostage is almost as good as a live one. They don't have to know I shot you."

"Shot? No, but-I-"

Selene calmly pulled a gun out of the waistband of her pants and brushed the barrel against Penelope's chin.

Leaning forward, she kissed Penelope on the cheek, a quick little peck.

Garcia couldn't breathe.

"Goodnight, honey," Selene said sweetly, cocking back the hammer.

"Stop!" a voice shouted, catching them both by surprise.

Selene whipped around, eyes flickering furiously.

Garcia recognized that voice.

"Reid?" she gasped out, hardly daring to believe it. Tears filled her eyes, causing a film to form over her vision. Yet, she still saw two figures making their way toward her, a young man and a girl.

"Why is he out of hiding, Corrie?" Selene yelled.

In her anger, she had let subtlety slide.

But when Garcia looked around, she saw that the joggers from before had gone.

They were all alone.

Reid, his arm handcuffed to Corrie, dragged the girl over to the two women. Corrie was holding a gun, but didn't look at all eager to use it.

"I… I tried, Mother, but…" She couldn't seem to come up with an excuse, so she just stood there, decidedly unhappy with the entire situation.

Selene's look of vicious disapproval had her looking down at the ground uncomfortably.

Regaining her composure, Selene straightened and fixed her gaze on Penelope. "Well, I guess this works in my favor. Reid, pet, tell her to behave." Selene brandished the gun at Garcia once more, maintaining eye contact.

"Please, Selene, you don't want to shoot her," Reid begged. His warm brown eyes darted back and forth between the two, his free hand outstretched.

He was alive, Garcia thought with exultation.

Then she noticed the open gash on his cheek. His voice faded into the background. Selene gestured wildly with the revolver, but Penelope paid her no heed. Everything faded into a blur, except that cut. Raw, almost to the bone. He must have opened it again recently; fresh red blood was oozing from the cut. She glanced down to his shoulder, taking in the neat white bandage hiding a terrible wound.

 _Oh, Reid… what has that monster done to you?_

Her lip quivered as she watched him bargain to save her life.

"Selene! If you kill her, you're right back where you started. This whole thing will have been for _nothing_. She'll c-come willingly now. Won't you, Garcia?" Reid gave her a "you'd-better-say-yes-or-else" look.

She nodded helplessly in response.

Selene seemed satiated for the time being.

She tucked the gun in her waistband, folding her arms and observing the three of them. "Alright, dearies, let's get going. It's late, and I'm _ever so_ tired." She made a show of yawning, stretching her arms out to the side.

Garcia started toward Reid, but Selene shoved her backwards abruptly. "Now, now, there'll be time for teary reunions later." Her brown eyes, cruel and cold, seemed to laugh at Penelope.

Selene snapped a pair of handcuffs on Garcia, cuffing one end to her own arm.

"What a pretty group we are!" she declared.

She leaned in close and trailed her finger down Reid's neck, impulsively pushing her palm down on his wounded shoulder and laughing as he winced.

He grabbed her arm, yanking it away from himself, glaring at her.

 _You… you evil psycho bitch! You harpy, you succubus, you demon-spawn from the twenty seventh ring of hell!_ Garcia screamed mentally, tugging the handcuffs backward to keep that woman as far away from Reid as possible.

He directed a grateful look toward Garcia. She could see he was biting the inside of his cheek again. He looked so young, so fragile, in that instant.

That little detail was so heartbreaking to her; she resisted the urge to melt down into a puddle and cry. But she had to stay strong.

For Reid. For the team.

They would find a way out of here.

She just knew it.

They got to the dark van after only a few minutes of walking. Selene rubbed her hands together, yanking Garcia forward to accommodate the motion. "Alright, Lover Boy, you and Corrie get the best seat in the house! That is, to say, the trunk. Don't worry, there's _plenty_ of room," she said.

Luckily, it was a van, so there really was plenty of room. Reid clambered into the back, helping Corrie up as well. His gaze lingered for a second on the city skyline; his last taste of freedom for possibly the rest of his life. He shuddered and looked away as the doors slammed shut.

Selene, after checking that everything was locked, climbed through the cab, forcing Penelope to sit up front with her.

"Hey, guess what? You get the high honor of knowing where my house is! Even Spence doesn't know _that_. But we're gal pals, right? You get special privileges." Selene winked, turning the key in the engine and backing up out of the parking lot.

Penelope stared at the steering wheel.

 _I could crash the van,_ she thought, a sudden hope rising in her.

Selene glanced over, noticing her fixation. She chuckled dismissively. "Oh, honey, you wouldn't do that. Do you really think we'd survive the crash? Do you know if Reid and Corrie would survive the crash? We're all too young to die, you know. And I'm _just_ vindictive enough to have a few, ah, safety measures in place, should anything… unfortunate… happen to me and mine." She paused for a long time, turning onto another backroad. "Some of those safety measures," she whispered conspiratorially, taking her eyes off the road for a second, "involve explosives. In _California_ ," she stressed, as if Garcia didn't get the hint.

No hope.

Garcia squeezed her eyes shut. A few more tears slipped between her closed lids. She leaned her head back against her seat, defeated.

All they could do now was wait.

And pray.

 _God, if you're up there, watching this… please, please, save us._

 _We have nowhere else to turn._


	13. Chapter 13

**Note:** And the update is actually on time today! Woo hoo!

Anyways, as always, a _huge_ thanks to my reviewers: ahowell1993, Prolific Reider, Spxxxxx, and AZCatmom.

* * *

She didn't know what to do.

Garcia could have cried in her frustration.

Instead, she paced. Back and forth. Back and forth.

The room she had been left in wasn't large, but it wasn't small either.

It was almost… cozy in its decor. A bed, a fluffy armchair, a small nightstand and a delicate oak vanity made the room seem well-furnished, but modest at the same time.

Obviously, Selene had no qualms about letting her captive live in comfort.

Nevertheless, it was a dungeon all the same.

Garcia hated it.

She had already tried the door.

Twice.

It was locked,bolted from the outside she would guess.

Who _makes_ doors like that? _Probably psycho murder carpenters_ , she decided bitterly.

Penelope had moved on to the window, though there was never any possibility there, she knew. She'd never make it that way.

Still, she had looked, tried to open it as well.

It was fastened.

No surprise there.

She continued pacing, before stopping before the door again.

"Hey!" She banged her open palm against the wood panelling.

She heard a yelp, and the rapid pattering of small feet running away from the door. Had someone been listening? Peeking through the keyhole?

She began pounding on the door with a renewed vigour. "Hey! Who's out there? Let me out!"

No one answered. The hall outside was quiet.

Garcia sank down against the door, struggling to hold back a frustrated sob.

She hadn't seen Reid. Not since the woman had escorted her here at gunpoint.

She wanted to believe that Reid had been granted accommodations such as these, but she doubted it, remembering the blood she had seen on him.

What was happening now?

The tears flowed freely now, sobs racking her frame. She sniffled softly, pressing her cheek against the wood grain.

All of the sudden, she heard a small sound from the other side.

"Don't cry, pretty lady," the little voice said.

She stiffened. "Who's there?" she demanded. The voice was young.

A small child she would guess. And not the little girl from before.

This child sounded even younger.

There was no answer from the other side and Penelope wondered if she had scared the child off.

But there had been no tell-tale patter of little feet.

"Shhhh." The child's voice came again. This time he (and Penelope was sure it was a 'he.') sounded frantic. "She'll hear you!"

There was no doubt in her mind who the _she_ was.

"Why?" Garcia couldn't help it if her voice shook. "What will happen if she hears?"  
There was silence from the child.

Then, "You won't like it."

She decided not to press that line of questioning. "What has she done to Reid?"

Once again, the child was silent, this time for so long that Garcia was certain he had gone away.

"H-hello?" she called hesitantly.

"Is... is he the man?"

Hope surged within her and she pressed herself up against the door.

"Yes! Yes! Is he okay?"

"I don't know" the child whispered, answering honestly. "Mother doesn't like him. She doesn't like you."

"But why?" Garcia wanted to pound the door in her frustration, but contained herself. She was talking to a child.

It was likely he might not even know the reasoning behind his mother's actions.

She didn't expect an answer.

"You were bad," the child whispered. "That's what she says."

 _Bad?_

Is that all there was?

* * *

Prentiss, Morgan, Gideon and Hotch dashed inside the open hotel's lobby.

Strolling forward, Agents Hotchner and Gideon flashed their badges at the nearest security guard and made their way toward the clerk.

The poor fellow gulped and yanked at his collar, dabbing at the beads of sweat trickling down his brow. He glanced nervously back and forth between the FBI agents.

"Hi there," Hotch said calmly, leaning his arm on the front desk. His body language portrayed a man at ease and in control; he wanted the clerk to relax, but also wanted to hurry the man along.

"We're looking for a man in his early thirties, white," he began.

"He'd be very arrogant and would barely acknowledge your existence, only speaking to you if he had to. Rarely checks in, complains about the room often?" Gideon offered.

The clerk began typing furiously on his computer, pulling up a list of registrations. "Um.. I'm sorry sir, that's… heh, that describes a lot of the customers here. Do you have a name I could try?"

Hotch glanced helplessly at Morgan and Prentiss.

"Wait… everything he's done so far has been to taunt us, right? Down to the street names. Everything has been meticulously planned from day one," Morgan said, frowning.

Prentiss' eyes widened. "He'll be on the second floor. Room 23." She took off running to the hotel elevator with Morgan in pursuit.

Hotch inhaled sharply. "Check under reservations for a Spencer Reid," he commanded the clerk.

The clerk stared at him dumbly.

"Now!" Hotch barked, slamming his hand down on the polished counter. He didn't have time to feel sorry for frightening the poor clerk.

The clerk nodded furiously and started typing again. "We do have a Spencer Reid here, sir. Room twenty three, just like the woman said. And, ah, he's s-supposedly here with a wife who... hasn't checked in yet."

"Wife?" Hotch asked, taken aback.

"Yeah. Um… the name given here is, ah… P-Penelope Garcia. Sound familiar?"

Hotch's only response was to pull out his cellphone as fast as he could, driven by a rush of anxious adrenaline.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Five.

"Hello there, mystery caller, you've reached the cellular device of one Penelope Garcia, Genius Extraordinaire. Leave a message after that despicably standard beep, and I'll get back to you in two shakes of a lamb's tail!"

Garcia _always_ picked up her phone. Hotch had never heard her voicemail before. He would have smiled, if he wasn't so consumed with worry.

 _This can't be happening. First Reid, now Penelope… we have to go home. But if we go, more will die…_

 _It's times like this that make you wonder whose life is worth more._

Hotch hated himself for having that thought, but it had been cropping up more and more often within the past few days.

 _Why do I have to make the choice?_ He thought, agonized, as he turned his phone off and started rubbing his temple furiously.

Meanwhile, Gideon managed to get through to JJ.

"JJ! Do you know where Garcia is?"

"I was just on the phone with her. She said she'd call me back. Listen, we have great news! Reid's escaped! He just called Penelope and she found him in the park, a little worse for wear but alive. He's _alive,_ Gideon!" she continued on, bulldozing over Gideon, who attempted to interrupt.

"JJ, it's not what you think…" Gideon attempted. He glanced over at Hotch for assistance, but Hotch was busy talking to Prentiss through his earpiece.

"It's alright! She sent me a text saying she has him safely. They're meeting me in this parking lot any minute."

"JENNIFER!" Gideon roared, frustration and panic blending in his voice. "I need you to listen to me for one minute. There's something you need to know."

There was silence on the other line for a few seconds. "What's going on?" she asked, her giddy hope finally overridden by suspicion.

"We can't reach Garcia's cell," Gideon said gently.

"Yeah, I know, I can't either. She said the call function on her phone isn't working."

"And the text function is? JJ, no service means no service. Listen to me, you can _not_ meet with 'them'. Our unsub was hiding here under the name of Spencer Reid. He made a second reservation for a no-show wife under the name of Penelope Garcia. _Penelope Garcia,_ JJ. She's next. Where did you last hear from her?"

"What? No. Not Garcia. Who would take Garcia? What kind of _monster…_ "

"Focus, JJ!"

"She was at Locust Shade Park. But that was almost two hours ago. Wait so… if she's been…" she hesitated to say the word, forcing it out of her throat. " _Kidnapped_ …" Her next words took on a note of fear that Gideon had never heard in her voice before. "...then who's that, pulling into the parking lot in her car…?"

Hotch snatched the phone from Gideon. "JJ, get out of there! Drive!" he shouted.

The stunned hotel clerk watched the unfolding scene with a face as white as snow.

"I can't!" JJ protested, frustrated now. "They're in the way!"

"You can't let them take you!" Gideon growled.

"JJ, describe the driver to me."

Hotch started pacing back and forth.

"She's small… brunette, dark eyes, casual clothes. She's getting out now. I'm going to pretend to go along with it."

"JJ no, you-"

 _Click._

* * *

JJ ended the call abruptly. She had to act now.

She smoothed her hair back, taking a deep breath, before opening the car door and stepping out.

"Hi there, may I help you?" JJ asked, forcing herself to keep her tone friendly, even as slowly, she reached back, keeping her hand on her gun.

JJ already knew that this woman had malice at heart.

She couldn't afford to let her guard down.

The woman stepped out of the car, brushing her hair back and glancing around her.

She was small, her frame lean, but lithe.

More than anything else, she gave the illusion of a wanderer lost.

She smiled at JJ.

"Are you Jennifer Jareau?" she asked.

Unconsciously, JJ took a half step back, muscles coiling, even as she gripped her gun. She didn't yet draw it forth.

Not yet.

If she played this right, she could learn where Garcia and Reid were.

The question itself seemed innocent- except JJ had never before seen this woman in her life.

She shouldn't know her name. She shouldn't be driving Penelope's car.

"Who are you?" she asked, voice hard as steel. "Why do you have my friend's car?"

The woman seemed almost taken aback. Confused. And beneath that something deeper spoke. Some pain. "What?" she asked. "I… someone told me you would be here." She swallowed. "He had a message for you. You have to understand… I have a baby!"

Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall.

JJ faltered.

Was it possible she had misjudged the situation? There was nothing in the profile that suggested their unsub was above taking hostages.

In fact… Hotch had even mentioned a fear of that before leaving.

Her hand started to move away from her weapon.

"Look," JJ said gently, instincts to protect and comfort overriding everything else, "whatever he's done, whatever he's said to you, we're going to find him. I need you to tell me…"  
With the suddenness and ferocity of a mother lynx, the woman struck.

JJ spun back, but without enough time to react, but the woman still crashed into her.

JJ saw stars, falling to the pavement. Her hair fell across her face in a curtain, obscuring her vision.

The woman landed atop her, driving the breath from her lungs.

She was heavier-and stronger-than she looked.

JJ grunted, her fingers going for her gun again.

It wasn't there.

She felt her first inkling of panic.

The woman had pulled herself up, straddling JJ's waist.

Her fingers were digging tightly, painfully, into JJ's shoulders.

JJ gripped her wrists and bucked.

The movement dislodged the woman and JJ shoved her, knocking her off.

Not wanting to waste precious seconds attempting to climb to her feet, JJ rolled over.

Her gun lay on the pavement several feet away from her.

JJ threw herself towards it.

Behind her, the woman gave an angry screech, scrambling after her.

Her fingers closed around JJ's shirt, attempting to yank her back.

JJ kicked out, felt her heel connect and the woman's grip on her shirt dropped.

She scrambled forward again, throwing her hand out and feeling her fingers brush comforting, cool steel.

She grasped the gun, pulling it towards her.

Hands landed on her shoulder.

"Miserable bitch!" the woman hissed, trying to drag her back.

The hands suddenly went for her gun, attempting to wrest it from her grasp.

JJ gasped, rolling over on her back, holding onto the gun for dear life.

The gun went off.

There was a scream of pain.

For a moment, JJ felt a cold spike of fear, wondering if the shot had gone wild.

But the woman was stumbling back from her, hand clutching her shoulder.

Already, blood was leaking downwards, staining her clothes a bright red.

She hissed between her teeth, shooting JJ a murderous glare.

JJ rose shakily to her feet, aiming the gun. "Where are they?" she demanded.

The woman gave her a half-tilted smile. "What will you do if I say nothing?" she asked. "Shoot me?"

And then her expression changed to one of fear-terror even. "W-what are you doing?" she asked, voice trembling. "Please don't!"

JJ frowned, confused by the sudden change. "What are you…?"

Someone grabbed the gun from behind, even as an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back.

In her surprise, JJ found herself unable to maintain her grip on the weapon and it was wrenched from her hands.

A clatter indicated that it had fallen to the ground in the struggle and, a moment later, JJ was thrown to the ground for the second time that evening.

The force of the impact drove the air from her lungs.

She strove to get up, but the assailant was instantly beside her, pinning both wrists to the ground.

She strained her neck, trying to see past the bulk of her attacker.

The woman was gone.

A car door slammed shut.

She was leaving! She was getting away!

"Get _off_ of me!" JJ shouted desperately.

She couldn't allow the woman to get away. Not when Reid and Garcia were at stake.

The man-and it was a man-was speaking to her, his tone accusatory, but JJ didn't hear a word.

"Please!" she cried, unable to refrain from begging.

Not when she'd been so close.

The pressure from her wrist eased, but didn't let up entirely.

The words started to make sense.

"What did you think you were doing?" the voice demanded. "You could have killed her!"

"You don't understand!" JJ struggled. There was still time. If she could just get him to understand… "I'm FBI!"

An engine started.

JJ lurched toward the sound, but the man held her fast, still convinced she was a threat.

"No!"

The man started, both at her cry and the sound of the car's starting.

"Wait!" He made to jump to his feet, but hesitated, looking uncertainly from JJ to the car, as if unclear which one demanded his attention more urgently. "You should see a doctor!"

The car pulled out of the lot.

Within two seconds, it was gone.

* * *

 **Note:** So before I proceed to this next part, I should inform you... Starshadow and I ended up having a lot of trouble with the scene between JJ and Selene, which prompted Starshadow to write _this_ little parody.

Today we bring you... the misadventures of Jennifer Jareau and one Selene the Unsub!

Selene: Hiyaaa! (Awkward kung-fu spin)

JJ: (Stunned glance) "Ow?"

JJ: (Arrests Selene) "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and- you know what hold on I just gotta know, what kind of stretches do you do in order to get to your leg that high?"

Selene: "You know it's actually all in the hamstrings"

 **Or!**

Selene: (Swings and misses with the leg)

"Fine if that won't work"

(SITS ON HER)

"Hahaha I will beat you now JJ!"

JJ: (squoosh) "That... was my rib cage... but girl you weigh nothing"

Selene: "I know, Blake is always telling me to get some meat on my bones"

JJ: (Casually brushes her off)

 **And then!**

JJ: "YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR FRAUD"

Selene: "Okay well not rea-"

JJ: "KIDNAPPING"

Selene: "Well alright I did do a little bit of that-"

JJ: "MURDER"

Selene: "Only second degree!"

JJ: "RESISTING ARREST"

Selene: "I literally sat on you! How does that count?"

JJ: "SITTING ON A FEDERAL AGENT!"

Selene: "Okay now you're just making this up."

* * *

 **Deleted Scene:**

Blake placed the hotel floor, feeling altogether too mysterious.

He should really change his name.

"Blake". It's like… "bleak". Like the future of the BAU. But somehow less important.

It was like the name 'Chad'. Nobody could be afraid of a 'Chad'.

"AVAST YE SCURVIES, IT IS I, _CHAD_!"

See how anticlimactic that is?

Chad.

Blake.

Blake.

Chad.

* * *

 **Further Note:** This is the first time I've ever posted a deleted scene... and this might be too short to called to even be called a deleted _scene_ , but it's something Starshadow wrote when she was in a weird mood and I felt like it at least deserved some recognition. LOL!

Since you have all been exposed to our weirdness, I apologize now.

See you all next Sunday!


	14. Chapter 14

**Note:** Special thanks to all our reviewers: ahowell1993, PitaCake, Spxxxxx and Prolific Reider.

This chapter is a little shorter than we would have liked, but I hope that it's still enjoyable. :)

 **Important:** Real life has been getting busier and busier, especially for Starshadow, so neither of us have been able to dedicate as much time as we'd like to this story. So, regretfully, it will be going on a temporary and (hopefully) brief hiatus as we try to get everything together again.

* * *

He was angry. Furious really.

But beneath that, He was disappointed.

He'd wanted to stay, wanted to play with them more, even while His Beloved wreaked havoc in Her own special way.

But fun had to end, though He was loathe to admit it.

He had led the FBI to His nest, His "home away from home."

It was time for Him to leave.

For an instant, a smile played on His lips.

The FBI rats were so confident that they could find Him.

And they almost had.

He would admit that.

After, had He not foreseen that eventually they'd come here?  
And it made His victory-and their failure-all the more sweet.

He imagined them busting down the door, gun drawn, only to discover naught but an empty room.

If He had had the time, maybe He could have left them another bomb.

A farewell gift of sorts.

He imagined it left on the chest of a cleaning maid, trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

Yes, that would have been a pretty surprise indeed.

But there had been no time for more games.

Not yet.

He cast one glance at the hotel, than started the car's engine and pulled away.

* * *

"How could he have gotten away? He was here! I'm sure of it!" Morgan nearly punched the wall in his frustration.

"Morgan, calm down!" Prentiss snapped. Perhaps it was hypocritical of her. She could feel her own irritation and bitter disappointment growing.

The room was empty, but it had been used.

The bedcovers were rumpled and pulled back, but that was the only sign that a living being had been present.

Prentiss crossed to the window. It was still open.

"Well, now we know how he got out," she said grimly, turning to Morgan.

"The window." Morgan shook his head scornfully. "Outdone by the oldest trick in the book."

He peered out, glaring at the steps to the fire escape as if he held them personally accountable for their quarry's escape.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been out the window and down the fire escape without hesitating.

But he didn't move.

He knew in his gut there would be no point.

Their man had gotten away.

Pulling away from the window, he did punch the wall this time. " _Damnit!"_ he swore, enraged at their failure.

"Morgan!" Prentiss rushed forward, grabbing his arm before he could vent anymore of his frustrations out on the hapless wall. "Stop it! Losing your head here isn't going to help bring Reid home!" She swallowed the bitterness that had collected in her throat. " _Or_ Garcia."

"No." Morgan rounded on her and his eyes shone with deep-set fury. "No, what _would_ help them both is actually _being_ there to catch the son of a bitch who took them!"

* * *

JJ was sore. In more ways than one.

The idiot ( _well-meaning_ idiot, she mentally corrected herself) had been flushed with embarrassment once he'd realized the truth, seeking to make it up to her with what must have been a dozen heartfelt apologies.

He didn't understand.

JJ didn't want his apologies.

She just wanted her teammates, her friends, her _family_ back.

She felt the first gathering of moisture in the corners of her eyes. Hastily, she brought the back of her sleeve across them.

She was not going to cry.

Right now her team was depending on her.

"Look, the cops are already on their way, uh, miss, but if there's anything else you need, I can…" The young man (who hadn't introduced himself. Introductions tended to be messy in situations like this one) quickly shut his mouth when JJ glared at him.

What she needed was that woman in custody. Once they had her, they could see about getting her to reveal where she was keeping Reid and Garcia.

JJ sighed then, keeping any frigid comments she might have to herself and brushing her hair over her shoulder. This man didn't deserve to be the subject of her ire.

If she were being honest, he had only done what any citizen trying to do the right thing would have done and should have done.

He had had no way of knowing that she was the good guy.

Although she couldn't help the simmering irritation.

On top of it all, she felt like a fool.

She had wanted so badly to hope-to _believe_ \- that Reid was okay. That they had gotten him back.

Except it had been a trap. For both of them.

But… only Garcia had been taken.

And now JJ was left here.

A choked whimper escaped her throat and she brought a hand to her mouth. Suddenly, the landscape blurred and she knew it had nothing to do with her vision.

Reid and Garcia were gone.

Who knew what was happening to them even now?

And she should have been with them.

She _wished_ she was with them.

Anything to see them again, to touch them, to know they were still alive.

What if… what if she killed them?

 _No, don't go there. She still needs them. Whatever their plan is, it's not over yet._

She needed to believe that.

Otherwise, she wasn't sure how she would be able to bear it.

The first of the police sirens sounded in the distance.

Numbly, JJ wondered how long she had been sitting here, doing nothing.

She reached for her phone. She had to call Gideon.

Her team needed to know what had just taken place.

* * *

Selene gritted her teeth, dabbing at the bloody wound in her shoulder with a cloth soaked in antiseptic.

It was only a graze, but that didn't mean that it didn't need to be cleaned.

And that didn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell.

She hissed as the first sting was felt, digging her nails into her palm and taking a shuddering breath.

Sweat broke out along her forehead and she bit her lip to keep from crying aloud.

Selene put the cloth down on the sink and gingerly prodded at the exposed flesh. She was lucky she had escaped with only a flesh wound.

She took the cloth again and dabbed once more at the wound. This time she couldn't control the cry that worked its way past her lips and she resisted the urge to smash something.

"Mother!" she shouted.

As much as it galled her to admit, she couldn't accomplish the next part without aid.

"Selene?" The timid woman pushed open the bathroom door halfway, hanging back as if she feared Selene might strike her.

Her fears were not entirely unfounded, Selene decided.

In her current state, she was likely to lash out at anyone.

What she wouldn't give for the opportunity to wring that blonde woman's neck…

When she next saw her… but no. Jennifer was beyond her reach now. She had made a mistake and the thought filled her with more fury than she thought possible.

She did not make mistakes.

There would be another way to get her victim.

She would not allow it to be otherwise.

"Bandages," Selene ground out when she saw Beth standing still in the doorway and her mother hurried to the medicine cabinet.

She tightly wound one around Selene's shoulder and the woman snarled, both in pain and rage, between her teeth.

Beth staggered back, frightened, but Selene stayed where she was, clutching the edge of the porcelain sink.

Tenderly, she reached up and felt the bandage.

The job would have to do for now.

She had matters to attend to.


	15. Chapter 15

**Note:** So... good news, we were able to complete another chapter. Bad news, we can't go back to regular updates. Not yet anyways. Hopefully that won't last long.

I want to thank our reviewers, Spxxxx, guest and Prolific Reider! Your tremendously kind words mean a lot to the two of us. Take care of yourselves, y'all!

* * *

He was back where he'd started.

Reid let his eyes travel the length of the basement he was being held in. He didn't see anything that he hadn't before.

However, there was no point in not trying.

His wrists had been tied again, the knots pulled so tight they made his bones ache and his fingers numb.

He'd tried to work on them, but, with the feeling in his hands fading, he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere.

He was trapped. There was no way out.

Reid hung his head, seeking to slow his heartbeat. He took several deep breaths. He wasn't here alone anymore.

Selene had kidnapped Garcia as well.

Garcia should never have been brought into this. Garcia who belonged safely in her office, surrounded by knick knacks. She was a light for all of them, their lifeline. She kept them sane. She didn't belong anywhere near this kind of darkness.

And JJ…

She was going after JJ.

If all three of them were taken…

Reid took a shuddering breath, fighting the despair that threatened to engulf him.

He couldn't let himself dwell on that.

JJ wouldn't let herself be taken. She's find a way to protect herself.

He turned his mind back to the present situation.

He hadn't seen Garcia since he'd been brought back down here. He hadn't seen Selene either.

If she had hurt her…

He strained furiously against his bonds once more.

The rope dug painfully into his wrists. They were already rubbed raw. Now he could feel the first trickling of blood reaching his fingers.

He gave up.

There was nothing he could do. Not without hurting himself further. If the rope dug too deep, it could damage the nerves of his wrists.

He wouldn't be able to use his hands properly.

And he would need to if an opportunity for escape presented itself.

* * *

Garcia had long since given up pacing.

She was worn out. Tired. And terrified.

She didn't see any shame in admitting that.

She had been kidnapped. Her best friend-or one of them- had been kidnapped.

She had no idea where he was. She had no idea what was happening to him.

She had no idea what had happened to him.

No. That wasn't entirely true.

She had an idea and she didn't like it.

Garcia was sitting on the bed. Her eyes remained fixed on the door.

So far, the child from before hadn't returned.

Penelope almost wished he would.

On top of everything else, she was also bored.

She just wanted to talk to another human being, one who didn't hate her guts and apparently want her and everyone else she cared about dead.

And part of her hoped that… maybe he could tell her news of Reid.

He hadn't been able to tell her anything the last time, but… she remembered how frightened and young he had sounded before he had left.

Garcia buried her face in her hands.

Every time she sat down at her computer to work, every time her team went out there, she had to face that this part of humanity was real.

Yet it was easier, she thought, when she was secure in her office, surrounded by a thousand bright colors to distract her.

Here… here she was facing the harsh reality that the team did every single time they took a case.

More than that, this was the reality of the _victims_.

And Reid had already been in this position before.

She choked on a sob, biting her lip to keep it from escaping.

She wouldn't cry.

She would be strong.

For Reid.

The door creaked open.

Startled, Garcia snapped her head up.

Selene stood there in the doorway. One hand still held the door open and in place.

Unbidden, her eyes traveled to Selene's shoulder, to the bloodstains that marred the fabric of her shirt.

 _JJ's blood?_

Her heard did an unpleasant leap in her chest.

Had Selene killed JJ and come here to gloat?

But no…

She caught sight of bandages underneath. The blood belonged to Selene and no one else.

For a moment, Garcia considered charging her then and there. She had never engaged in physical combat. Not once. But it didn't take a genius to see that she outweighed the woman before her. If she could knock her off balance, there was a chance she could flee.

She could find Reid. Free him. The two of them could escape.

Garcia remembered the gun, however.

She didn't see any evidence of it on Selene's person, but then… she hadn't before.

Better to wait. She could make her move when she knew more.

Selene shut the door behind her, and leaned back against it.

She smiled.

"Would you like to hear about my day?"

* * *

Gideon paced.

To one end of the room and back again.

Repeat.

"We were here," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "We were here, but he got away. _How?_ How did he get away?" He shook his head, abruptly bringing his pacing to a halt. "We've been underestimating him."

Hotch watched him beneath furrowed brows. His mouth was twisted into a line of displeasure.

"Yes," Hotch acknowledged and Gideon resumed his pacing.

"JJ and Reid," Gideon said. At the sound of their colleagues' names, Hotch stiffened. One of the two was missing, abducted. And they still had no idea what had happened to JJ. Not after that last phone call.

And Garcia.

Hotch rubbed a hand over his brow.

He wanted more than anything to be able to call her, to hear her voice on the other end of the phone, to be able to check with her.

He let out a heavy sigh.

Prentiss entered the room again, coming to a stop before Hotch.

"The hotel has security footage," she announced. "But…" she paused cautiously before proceeding tactfully, "without Garcia, getting to it is going to be more of a hassle."

"But the manager is cooperating, right?" he asked.

Prentiss nodded slowly. "It took a bit of convincing… and I'm not JJ," she winced as she said the words, "but he's willing to give us the feed."

"Jason?" Hotch finally turned to look at Gideon.

Gideon stopped to face them all. "There's no point," he said. "Our unsub isn't staying here."

"What are you talking about?" Morgan asked, stepping forward.

"We followed him to his lair," he said. "There's no point in him staying here. He's going back to home."

Morgan glanced from Prentiss to Hotch.

Prentiss was biting her lip. Hotch looked grim.

"So that means we're going back too?" he asked. Morgan felt his heart lift at the prospect. They would make more progress than they had here. They would find Reid and Garcia.

And JJ too if she had been taken.

Because as much as Morgan wanted to hold on to hope, he couldn't deny the unshakeable feeling that things were only going to get worse.


	16. Chapter 16

**Note:** So, good news. My writing partner's schedule should ease up sometime in June, so hopefully we'll be getting back to regular updates around then. I make no promises, however, out of fear that we won't actually be able to keep them.

Special thanks to ahowell1993, PitaCake, spxxxxx, jvarmgr, and Prolific Reider. Your reviews really do help us keep going.

* * *

JJ held her phone to her ear. _Pick up. Pick up. Pick up._ It turned into a silent chant.

She chewed her lip, glancing behind her. Several officers were talking to the young man. The one who'd mistakenly assaulted her and who she still hadn't bothered to learn the name of.

She had already been grilled by the local police, already answered all their questions.

It had left her feeling emotionally drained.

 _Pick up. Pick up. Pick…._

"Hello? Jennifer?!"

"Gideon?!"

And it all came crashing down on her head. She could have wept. Whether it be for grief or for relief, she didn't know.

Maybe both.

"JJ!" The word was mixed with relief and it hit JJ just how terrified for her the team must have been.

A new wave of guilt washed over her.

She'd done that. It had been her fault. She'd hung up. She'd let them worry. She'd walked into a _trap._

Her knees went weak and she grasped the side of a car to support herself, afraid she would lose her balance completely if she didn't.

"Gideon," she choked out, unable to say more beyond that. She didn't think she'd ever been happier to hear his voice.

"JJ, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I… Gideon, she got away." JJ brought a hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. "I failed them."

"No, Jennifer, you listen to me." Gideon's voice was firm. "You did not fail them. You did not fail either of them. Is that clear?"

JJ nodded, before it occurred to her that Gideon couldn't see her. The gesture would mean nothing.

"Gideon," she managed, glancing over to where the cops were finishing with the young man, "it was a woman. The unsub. The one who took… who took Reid and Garcia. She's a woman."

There was a moment of silence before Gideon breathed. "What?"

* * *

"Just go away," Garcia whispered. She kept her eyes focused on her knees. She couldn't bring herself to look the woman in the eyes.

"Oh, but, honey," Selene purred. She placed her hand on Penelope's shoulder gently, as if she were a friend offering support.

Garcia tried not to shudder.

She failed.

"I'm only just getting to the good part."

"Stop it!" Garcia cried, suddenly unable to control herself. The tears she had tried for so long to withhold were spilling over. "Just stop it!"  
Selene crouched down on one knee. She tilted her head and her eyes were so sincere it made Garcia sick.

How could anyone be so… so _false?_

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Garcia wanted to scoff. As if she could even ask that. She knew perfectly well what was wrong.

And then a light dawned in the woman's eyes. She snapped her fingers as if the solution had just presented itself to her. "Ah ha!" she crowed. "You care about him! Of course! That's it!" She grinned up at her.

Out of context, Garcia might have assumed she was laughing over a good joke with friends, or a particularly juicy bit of gossip.

But to see the expression present on her face here and now...

Something churned in Garcia's stomach. This really was just a game to her.

She was having fun.

Selene leaned in close, eyes twinkling. "I can get you a front row seat," she offered. "How about it, sister?" She winked.

Something inside of Penelope broke.

"What is wrong with you?" She shot to her feet. For an instant, surprise fluttered across Selene's face before it fell away.

Obviously, she hadn't expected such a reaction from her audience.

It didn't matter though. Garcia had already seen it. She felt a sense of small satisfaction at a miniscule victory. "What is _so wrong_ with you that you have to do this? That you have to _hurt people?"_

She was crying now, real, fat tears that rolled down her cheeks, and she sank to her knees on the carpeted floor.

Garcia brought a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that burst forth,

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

It seemed an age before Selene responded, but, finally, she felt a cold hand on her shoulder.

"Because, dearest Penelope," she whispered. Her lips brushed up against her ear and she flinched. "Because I can."

* * *

"You're leaving." Detective Callahan's flat tone did nothing to reveal the flurry of emotions that churned underneath.

Fear. Fear that more of the people under _his_ protection would die. Anger. Anger was the easiest. Anger refused to be ignored. Anger allowed him to bury his fear. Hide it. Tuck it away in the darkest of corners.

And he was angry.

They couldn't just _leave._

Agent Hotchner met his gaze with something like regret. "I'm afraid so."  
"Because what?" he snapped. "Because this lunatic is _leaving?_ You can't be sure of that!"

"Detective Callahan, I know you don't like the turn things have taken and I can't blame you, but right now it's our best option."

"Why? Because your damn profile tells you so?" His tone was raising heads in the room were already turning in his direction. He didn't care.

"Detective Callahan." Agent Hotchner repeated his name. He looked him dead in the eyes and Callahan could tell in an instant that something had changed.

The FBI unit chief had been serious from the first moment he stepped out of the standard SUV, but his look and bearing here and now went beyond that.

He looked dangerous. Like there would be hell to pay if anyone tried to stand in his way.

Callahan seriously considered if he wanted to be that person who did try.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. In through his nostrils, out again.

In and out.

It worked.

Sort of.

"Agent Hotchner," he forced himself to speak with less hostility than he had before. "This… animal has killed people, people I know, people in my jurisdiction. When I called you in, the understanding was that you would catch this maniac and bring him. And now you're leaving?"

"The unsub has a partner working simultaneously back in Quantico. A woman." He gave that a moment to sink in. "The most likely theory is that they're related in some way or lovers. They wouldn't want to stay apart for long. And it would seem the unsub considers his work in California to be done. He's heading back to her."

Callahan forced himself to take another deep breath. "And what," he finally asked, "if you're wrong?"  
Hotchner didn't drop his eyes.

"Then we come back. We don't stop until we catch him."

* * *

 **Note:** This is a bit of a filler chapter. Sort of trying to swing back into the feel of this story.

Thank you for reading and, if you enjoyed, please leave a review! They really do make a writer's (or two writers' ;) ) day!


	17. Chapter 17

**Note:** And we're back! I'm happy to say that it looks like _The Price of Immortality_ will be coming off hiatus unless something unforeseen happens in the near future.

A special thanks to our reviewers: Spxxxxx and Prolific Reider, and to everyone who has favorited/followed or kept reading this story during our hiatus. Your support means a lot to us.

* * *

"Draw four wild!" Andi crowed, slapping down a card in the discard pile.

Corrie groaned as if mortally wounded, hiding a secret smile behind her hand of cards.

"What color did you change it to?" she asked in a mock grumpy voice as she picked up yet another set of four cards. This was the third time in the past two games that Andi had done this to her. If he wasn't five, she would have accused him of dealing from the bottom of the deck.

"I choose…" He paused for dramatic effect. "Green!"

"Of _course_ you did!" Corrie said, shaking her head. Andi always chose green, whether he had green cards or not. _I bet that's what's happening now,_ she thought.

Corrie didn't have any greens either though, so she guessed that his strategy was working. She laughed at him as her prediction came true; with a sheepish grin, Andi drew a card.

The smiles died on their faces as Selene entered the room, towering above the sitting children despite her very small stature.

"Children, guess what? I have _wonderful_ news! Your father is coming _home_! He should be here in a few days. Isn't that lovely?"

Corrie and Andi inhaled sharply, hardly daring to believe it.

They shared a long glance, before breaking into a smile.

Blake was coming home.

Selene rushed to Andi, who was sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, scooped him up and gave him a big hug.

Andi cringed at first, but then slowly relaxed in her arms, directing a stunned look in Corrie's direction.

"May I play with you two?" Selene asked cheerfully, looking to Corrie with bright, hopeful eyes.

What else could she say?

Corrie nodded.

It had been so long since Blake and Selene had been together for good… he'd been in and out for the better part of the year, before finally leaving to California this past month.

Selene had, Corrie thought ruefully, gone even crazier without him.

Corrie and Andi had almost accepted life with Selene like this as their fate, forever.

But… Blake was coming home.

 _She wasn't always this bad_ , Corrie thought to herself. The bad days had always been this bad in intensity, to be fair, but they were _much_ less frequent. Corrie had noticed a pattern within the relationship of the two; Blake stabilized Selene a little bit, and in return, Selene made Blake a little less emotionless. It allowed for a blessed period of relief and rewards coming from their 'parents'.

"You know what you children need?" Selene said brightly, as if proving Corrie's point; "Ice cream. I think we have some in the freezer. I'll go get it. I'll be right back, dears." She smiled sweetly, gently removing Andi from her lap and getting up to go get dishes and spoons for the three of them.

Andi started to cry quietly as soon as she was out of earshot.

Laying down her cards, Corrie scooted closer across the floor and encircled her arms around him, holding him tightly. A few of her own tears slipped out as well, sliding into his mess of curly blonde hair.

"Is… is Mother really… gonna… is she…" he tried to formulate a sentence, but couldn't.

Corrie smiled, meeting his eyes. "For now, we're gonna be okay. If she gets mad again, it'll probably be at those FBI people she took, not at us."

This only made him cry harder, but she suspected that, like hers, some of his tears were of relief.

Blake was coming back.

Maybe the situation wasn't so hopeless after all.

Selene made a loud noise in the kitchen, which was down the hallway, and Corrie and Andi hastily wiped away their tears and separated, gathering up the cards and shuffling them, this time to include three people.

"Remember when we used to play a game every night?" Corrie murmured. "It wasn't always Uno. Sometimes it was..."

"...Go fish, and hearts. I sat on Mother's lap when we played hearts, 'cause I couldn't play by myself. She letted me-"

"Would let," Corrie corrected absentmindedly, dealing out the cards.

Andi stuck out his tongue in response. " _Would let_ me put the cards down for her."

Corrie smiled. "Yeah. Blake and I had a secret code for when we wanted to shoot the moon. And for when we thought Mother was going to."

"Is _that_ how you two won all the time?" Selene said from behind them.

They hadn't noticed her come in.

Corrie cringed, eyes widening as she turned slowly to face Selene.

Selene laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to punish you for it. Here, I found your favorite," she said, sitting down on the floor and handing Corrie a good-sized dish of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Corrie's mouth dropped open. She stared from the ice cream to Selene, and back again.

"Go on," Selene encouraged, placing a smaller dish of chocolate ice cream in front of Andi, and a bowl of strawberry ice cream for herself.

Corrie tentatively dug the spoon into the ice cream and took a small bite.

The creamy, cold flavor washed over her tongue. "Mint ice cream is colder than normal ice cream," she had always said, ever since she was very small.

When she was younger, she would take a bite of mint ice cream and then drink out of a glass of ice water right after, laughing as the coldness intensified.

Corrie closed her eyes and let the safe, comforting flavor take her far away into her memories.

"Alright, whose turn is it?" Selene asked, picking up her hand and ushering Corrie back into reality.

"Mine!" Andi cried. Nothing could deter him from his love of Uno and ice cream, which were his two 'favoritest' things in the entire world. Both Corrie and Selene could not help but smile in response to his enthusiasm.

It was times like this that made Corrie's heart lift a little bit. As the ice cream slowly disappeared from their bowls, she could pretend that there wasn't a woman curled up, crying, in the upstairs guest bedroom. As the cards kept stacking up on the discard pile, she could pretend that there wasn't a scared, wounded man in the basement. As the three smiled and joked and laughed on that floor, she could pretend that Selene and Blake had never hurt her or done anything cruel. As their cheeriness gave warmth to the drafty, open rooms of the house, she could pretend that this 'family' she lived with was actually her own.

And most importantly, she could pretend that she was happy.

That's all that really mattered.

* * *

Hotch reviewed what they had over again in his head.

It wasn't enough.

Not when they didn't have any idea why their unsubs had chosen to target them so specifically.

Not when they didn't have any idea where they were holding Garcia and Reid.

Vaguely, he was aware of a figure sitting across from him.

Only when he decided to look was he aware that it was Prentiss.

"Hey." Emily tried to smile at him, but it was clear she was only playing a game of pretend.

The smile didn't reach her eyes and the shadows underneath spoke of days of worry with little rest.

It pretty much described how Hotch was feeling right now.

He didn't say anything.

If she had come to speak, she would speak.

She didn't need his permission to do so.

Prentiss tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. Playing with her hair was not something she usually did. Hotch suspected she was trying to do something to distract herself. Not that it would work.

He knew that feeling too.

Prentiss took a deep breath, finally steadying herself, and looking Hotch in the eye.

"I know that… maybe you don't want to hear this, but," her smile wobbled for the fraction of a second before she let it slip completely, "I keep thinking back to Hankel."

 _Hankel._

Hotch closed his eyes just before the flood of memories washed over him.

He still remembered the wave of cold dread that had inundated him when he realized he had sent the two least experienced members of his team to unknowingly confront a serial killer.

He had been the one to send them to their near deaths.

"And," she hesitated, looking uncharacteristically unsure of herself, before she continued in a softer voice, "I'm guessing you do too."

Hotch met her eyes again.

"Yes," he admitted.

The truth was, he didn't think he would ever forget.

(And if he felt that way, then how did Reid? Or JJ for that matter?)

"It's funny," Prentiss almost laughed, but looked away in a manner that suggested it was anything but, "but when," she swallowed audibly, "when that video… of him showed up on Hankel's screen, it was awful and… I knew that I never, _never_ wanted to see any member of my team in that position again."

She looked back at him then and there was pain in her eyes. Her mask was starting to crack.

"Now I… I would give anything to see them, either of them, even if it had to be like that. As terrible as it is," she stopped, giving herself time to regain her composure, "it would at least mean that they were alive."

Hotch reached out, breaking his own self-imposed rule, and laid his hand over her slightly smaller one.

"You know we don't assume the worst without evidence. They're alive," he said firmly, answering her own barely concealed look of surprise.

Prentiss exhaled. "And alive means we can find them."

* * *

 **Note:** Well... Selene might be a psychopath, but she doesn't always act like it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Note:** We're still trying to get back in business with this story, hence the delay. So, while we're now regularly working on this fic again, updates might come on Mondays or Tuesdays for a while, even though we're going to be shooting for Sundays.

Special thanks to tannerose5, ahowell1993, Clara, Spxxxxx and Prolific Reider for your amazing reviews!

* * *

Childish as it was, JJ couldn't keep herself from pacing.

Given the circumstances, and all that had happened, she thought that at least she deserved some slack to handle the stress as she saw fit.

The four remaining members of her team were on their way home.

They were coming back. She wouldn't have to deal with this on her own anymore.

"Is there… anything I can do for you, Agent Jareau?" Anderson asked her.

After the attempted abduction, JJ was not to be by herself and that rule extended as far as the FBI Headquarters itself.

It was a decision that she could understand.

If positions were reversed, she would likely have made the same call.

"No!" she snapped, still pacing.

She caught sight of his startled expression and sighed.

There was too much on her mind for her to entirely feel bad, however.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "but I… please, not now. I'm sorry."

Anderson nodded, understanding replacing his surprise.

"I could get you some water," he offered.

JJ allowed her shoulders to slump, coming to a stop with a sigh.

"Some water would be nice," she admitted. "Thank you."

Anderson nodded, giving her a gentle smile. "Of course."

At the door, he turned.

"And Agent Jareau?"

JJ turned.

"I'm truly sorry for all this," he said simply. "I care about this team too."

JJ managed a watery smile. "Thank you," she said.

And he was gone.

JJ sighed and cast a look about the room.

Her eyes landed on the phone and her fingers itched to pick it up.

It was what she was good at. Cooperating and communicating with local law enforcement and getting the information they needed.

Except there wasn't much of that to do here.

The kidnapper had taken Garcia's car.

If they could find that and lift prints…

JJ pulled one of the chairs away from the table, allowing herself to sink down into it.

She felt her spirits lifting.

There was the chance that they could find the car, and once they did, they'd quite possibly have the piece of evidence that would lead to them finding Garcia and Reid.

Anderson entered again, setting the glass of water in front of her.

JJ gratefully took a sip. "Thank you," she repeated herself.

The water, at least, helped her clear her head, and she sat up a little straighter.

"Do we know anything?" she asked. "Have they found anything?"

 _Have they found her car?_

 _Have they found the unsub?_

 _Have they found my friends?_

Anderson's eyes shifted to the side but before he answered and before JJ could ascertain what had captured his attention, a new voice called out.

"JJ!"

She stood from her chair abruptly, whipping around in surprise.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Emily…" Before she could fully get the name out, her friend had already enveloped her in a crushing hug.

Stunned, for a moment, JJ didn't react. Then she wrapped both arms around the other woman's back, holding her tightly.

"We were so worried about you," Prentiss murmured against her hair. She pulled back, looking JJ over critically.

"Are you hurt?" Hotch moved in, placing a firm and grounding hand on her shoulder.

"A little bruised," JJ answered. She looked stricken all of a sudden. "But I'm fine. You shouldn't be worried about me. We need to be looking…"

"You're a member of this team, JJ," Gideon cut in bluntly. "Of course we would be worried for you. Don't ever suggest we would be otherwise."

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, JJ kept her mouth shut. She ducked her head, nodding mutely.

"It doesn't change what's happened to Garcia and Reid," she pointed out.

"No, it doesn't." Morgan elbowed his way into the group. "It doesn't change it at all." He pulled her into a tight hug. "But if things had gone differently, it would have been three teammates we'd be looking for, not two. We're all glad you're safe, JJ."

He and JJ separated.

JJ ran one hand through her hair and straightened her shoulders, standing taller.

"The unsub, as you already know," she said, "used Garcia's car. And she didn't use gloves." She looked each of her teammates in the eyes. "If we can find it… there's a chance she's left her fingerprints inside."

There were two problems with that hope, and JJ was aware of both of them.

They could find the car, only to learn that their mystery woman had wiped it down. While it seemed unlikely that she would have to JJ, it was certainly a possibility.

They could find the car and lift the prints… only to learn that the woman's prints weren't registered. The prints would be useless.

There was a third option, however.

They might never find the car at all.

* * *

"Dearest! Guess what!"

Penelope screamed, taken by surprise. She shot to a standing position from the chair she had been sitting in, backing away frantically as Selene swiftly approached her.

"Oh Penny dear, don't _fuss_ so. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Really? Because last time we talked-"

"That's in the past!" Selene declared, grasping Penelope's arm with one hand and making a grand, vague gesture with the other.

She pinched Penelope's cheek. "Guess what happened now, Penelope! Guess, _guess_! Oh I'm dying to see if you're smart enough to get it. Come on, now. Try your hand at this whole 'profiling' thing. Or have they told you that you're too dumb to do it, too? Is that the lie they tell you, my poor _precious_ dear?"

Penelope recoiled as if she had been slapped. Her brown eyes rose to meet Selene's. "I have no idea," Penelope said spitefully. "Nor do I care what happened to make you feel the way you do! What do you want from me, Selene?"

Selene's smile wavered.

Penelope regretted her outburst immediately. "I mean… I… I'm sorry-" Penelope hung her head.

Selene grimaced, releasing Penelope from her grip. "You know… any other day, if you spoke to me in such a hateful manner, I would have to take… actions," she said, calmly examining her fingernails.

Penelope cringed, fixed in place.

"Luckily for you, today is not any other day!" Selene grinned, grabbing Penelope's arm once more and pulling her toward the open door.

"However, since you refuse to play my little game, I guess I'll have to go ask Brainiac downstairs, and see if he gets it. Who knows? I'm in such a good mood, I may even release one of you!" she said, pulling Penelope along behind her.

Selene turned her head, still walking, and winked. "No I won't," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Aren't you scared I'll… escape or something?" Penelope asked, out of sheer curiosity.

Selene paused, staring at Penelope. She suddenly burst into laughter. Hands on her knees, she panted, her form wracked by fits of giggles.

Penelope stood uncomfortably in the hallway, watching as the mad woman descended further beyond all reach of human sanity.

The sight terrified her a little.

At last, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes, Selene stood up straight and fixed Penelope with a cheerful smile.

"You're so adorable, Penelope! I love your optimism, I really do. It's your crowning feature. You think you could escape! Ha! Dear me...that's a good one." Selene chuckled as she walked. Penelope, without any other option, followed her down the stairs, through the living room, and down the second set of stairs to the basement.

Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness; Selene did not have a switch at the top of the stairs, so they would have to go to the middle of the room and turn on the light manually.

"Wh-who's there?" Reid's voice came from the darkness.

Garcia's heart did a flip flop in her chest and she stumbled forward, groping her way through the darkness.

She couldn't hear Selene's steps, but she was sure the other woman was right behind her.

"Reid!" she called out. "It's me, Penelope. Selene's here too." She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. In the darkness, she could barely make out the woman's silhouette. "Um… she's… she's letting me see you, for… " another backwards glance, "whatever reason. Are you okay? How is…" She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, "How's your shoulder?

"Garcia?" His voice sounded choked, thick with disbelief.

"Reid!" Penelope couldn't keep the tears back and she rushed forward blindly. She didn't get very far, however, before she was crashing into a stack of boxes.

She gasped in surprise, trying to veer away from them, losing her balance and ending up on her hands and knees on the floor.

"Whoopsie," Selene commented drily from behind her.

Her glasses had fallen off in the process and she felt blindly for them along the floor.

They wouldn't help her see better in this darkness, but she needed to find them.

There!

At last her fingers found them, and she brought them back up to her face.

"Garcia?" Reid's voice reached her and she noticed for the first time just how dry it was. "Are you okay?" He was close. She peered through the darkness, seeking him out.

Her breath hitched when she found him, or at least when she could make out his faint outline.

She scrambled to her feet as quickly as she was able.

"Reid!" As soon as she reached him,she flung her arms around him, sobbing into his hair. "Reid, you're okay. You're alive. You're okay."

She kept repeating it, over and over, until it became a mantra.

He was crying with her. She could feel the warmth and wetness of his tears soaking into her shirt.

It was then that she realized he hadn't hugged her back.

She could feel it. His arms were twisted around behind his back.

Selene had left him bound.

Of course she had.

Furious, Garcia spun around.

"Untie him!" she demanded. She was practically quivering with rage.

The light switched on then and Garcia flinched, shutting her eyes against the sudden bright light.

"Oh, Sweets," Selene responded, quite casually. "You're so persistent!" She gave a high, girlish laugh, one that sent chills crawling up and down Penelope's spine. "That's what I love about you, y'know," she said, with a conspiratorial wink. "Little Reid is sweet and all but he's no match to your unfailing delusions. In truth, I find that geniuses are so… mainstream nowadays. _Everyone_ has a talent. It's _so_ rare to find someone who still lives in her own little fairytale world as a fully-fledged adult! Honestly, Penelope dear… I _almost_ admire you."

Selene's dark eyes met Garcia's wide, shocked ones, issuing a silent challenge.

"Defend yourself," those eyes said. "I dare you."

"Leave her alone!" Reid snapped, drawing Selene's attention.

His eyes looked haunted and wild; his clothes were ragged and his hair stuck up in strange places. On a normal day, Garcia might have laughed. Now, however, seeing him with head held high, unbroken, brought tears to her eyes.

"You _almost_ admire her?" Reid scoffed indignantly. He pressed forward once more, and Selene took a hesitant step back, caught off guard.

"You have the audacity to think that you're better than her? That your destructive and… and childish behavior is somehow more respectable? You are _nothing_ in comparison. She will _always_ be better than you," he finished, eyes flashing.

Garcia's hand flew to her mouth. She was both touched by Reid's bold words and horrified by them; she waited with bated breath for Selene's response.

* * *

 **Note:** The chapter in which reunions happen! Starshadow and I have been looking forward for this for a while!


	19. Chapter 19

**Note:** This took a bit longer to get out. We had some trouble deciding where exactly we wanted to take this next.

There will not be an update next week. I will be out of state for this coming week and I won't be bringing my laptop with me so I won't be writing.

A special thanks to spxxxxx, ahowell1993, Prolific Reider and badguthrie for your reviews!

* * *

Selene stood still, her eyes frosty as she surveyed the pair of them.

Then she laughed. "Oh, honey," she said. "You're adorable. Did you know that? _Adorable_." She drew the word out slowly. "Putting yourself at risk of my wrath to protect your little friend? It's just so wonderfully sweet and noble… there isn't anything between you two, is there?" She glanced at them coquettishly. "No? Shame. You two will have so much to bond over, assuming you survive." She paused. "Think about it though. Life and death can be sooo romantic." Her eyelids fluttered and she gave a happy sigh, expression turning dreamy.

Garcia and Reid stood frozen in her gaze. Ever so slowly, Selene brought one finger up to tap her chin. "Hmm… you know, my dears, there are two ways to go about this. I could be kind to you and let your defiance go." She spread her hands and tilted her head in a gesture of 'maybe, maybe not.'

"Or _maybe_ I could forget about your value as hostages and end your little lives, albeit somewhat abruptly. With an axe. It won't be as fun as a slow death, of course, but it will be _deliciously_ satisfying… for a few seconds, at least. I've always been something of an 'instant gratification' kind of woman myself, so I'm considering it perhaps a little more than I should."

Reid gulped.

Selene clucked her tongue sympathetically, coming closer. "I'm sorry, dear. Did that scare you?"

Reaching out, she stroked his sweat streaked hair away from his forehead.

Penelope bristled. "Don't touch him!"

"Oh, sweetcakes." Selene's attention returned to Garcia. "Haven't you both learned that you don't get to tell me what to do? I'd be _awfully_ careful if I were you." Her hand trailed down to cup Spencer's cheek. "You don't want to know what I can do when I'm angry."

Selene laughed girlishly. "However, I am _not_ , in fact, angry." She spun away from the two. "In fact, this has been the best several weeks of my life! Not only have I captured two members of the _FBI_ , I've done so without getting caught! And I would have gotten the last one, too, if it weren't for that passerby…" her expression turned sour for a second, before her blithe smile returned. She sneaked a glance back at Garcia and Reid, unable to resist the urge to have a little fun.

She turned back slowly, examining her nails.

For now, she would bide her time.

Selene lifted her doe eyes up to meet their accusing faces with perfect childlike innocence. "At least I got my consolation," she murmured, enjoying their wary, confused reactions. "The gun went off… it wasn't my intent, you know," she lied.

She waited for their eyes to widen in realization before continuing. "She didn't seem to be breathing when I left, but… maybe she's alive?" She offered the false hope with a cruel smirk dancing on her lips.

"No! She's not dead! I saw you! You had blood on your shirt, but it was just yours! She's fine!" Garcia protested desperately.

Reid looked like he might faint, gasping for air.

Selene shrugged. "I know it's easier for you to think that, Penny dear. But surely you two know that wounds can bleed through bandages. Did it not occur to you that I would change my shirt before going to see you? Why didn't you see any dirt on the shirt as well? Only blood…" Selene shook her head. "I can see why you're not a profiler, Penelope. You're just not…" she tapped her forehead, "not that observant. It's okay. Geniuses are a dime a dozen anyway. Look how much good that brain of Spence's has done him, after all!"

Selene chuckled and turned to leave the two alone to discuss. She figured that if they were together, they would feed off of each other and make each other infinitely worse. Either that, or they would bond and get stronger…But that would only make destroying their precious friendship even more delightful when Blake got home. Regardless, it was a win-win situation.

"She's right," a whisper came from behind her.

She rounded on its cause. "What?"

Reid met her eyes. "She's right. You didn't have time to bleed through. You hadn't closed the wound. You only traveled half an hour to get from the meeting site that you forced Garcia to send to JJ, and then to get bandaged up and go see her, changing your clothes as you said… it's not enough time for a wound to bleed through. You didn't really hurt JJ, did you?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" Selene snarled.

Reid tilted his head to the side, pretending to ponder it for a second. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I am."

"I assure you, I've killed your precious, little Jennifer. You can't prove that she's alive."

Reid gave her a subtle, yet triumphant smile, "But _you_ can't prove that she's dead. And until then-"

"Until then we won't stop fighting," Garcia interrupted. "You think you can win this, but why did you take us then?"

"You didn't think you could win," Reid said softly. He looked almost thoughtful. "That _is_ why you chose us, isn't it? It's why the note said we three had to stay behind, but then you still weren't confident. So you had to take us. Is that it? You knew that with my intelligence and JJ and Garcia's combined resources… You knew that we're unstoppable. So you tried to make us stoppable. You tried to even the playing field. You called us the weak links, but you don't see us that way, do you? But you have it wrong. The team can stop you, even without us."

Selene's eyelids had narrowed to slits. "You think you have it figured out, don't you?" she said. She reached out, tracing Reid's jawline with her fingertips.

Reid jerked his head away and Selene, for once, let her hand drop back down to her waist.

"Little Spencer Reid, the boy genius," she mocked, spitting the words out in disgust, "and Penelope Garcia, the face behind the computer. And what of little Jennifer? The voice on the other end of the phone? You think you're unstoppable?" She laughed, the sound high and wild. "Darlings, it isn't you." She moved behind Garcia, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Garcia stiffened, sucking in her breath with a gasp as a cold barrel pressed into the small of her back. "The one are unstoppable? Why… it's us!" She let the barrel of the gun glide its way up Garcia's spine until it finally rested on the back of her skull. "There's always going to be another one of me. Always going to be another killer you have to stop. There's always going to be some man, woman or child who dies because _you_ weren't fast enough to save them."

There was a click as the gun's safety switched off.

Penelope squeezed her eyes shut, her bottom lip trembling.

She didn't want to die. Not here. Not now.

Not like this.

"Selene." Reid was straining against his bonds, his eyes fixed on the two of them. He kept his voice even, trying hard not to push her any farther. "Please. You don't have to do this. Just… just put the gun down. Don't hurt her."

"You think you have me figured out?" she said, ignoring Reid. "If I'd wanted to get rid of you, if I _really_ wanted you out of the way, then tell me… tell me, Spencer. You're so _smart._ " She stepped back, removing the gun from Garcia's head. "Why wouldn't I have killed you then? It would have been so easy." She aimed the gun back at Garcia. "Bang." She directed the gun towards Reid. "Bang."

She brought the gun to her own temple, smiling as she did so. "And little JJ. One last bang."

Selene lowered the gun, clicking the safety back on. "So tell me, Spencer. Use that big brain of yours. Why don't you tell me why I haven't killed you then."

"I…" Reid hesitated. "You want to win. But… winning isn't enough for you if we can't _see_ you win."

Selene stepped back, tossing her head. Her eyes flashed. "I don't need you two!" she snapped. "I don't need you two to see me win! Your team will suffice. And," she flung her arms out in a dramatic gesture, "the whole world will see the BAU fall!"

"Except we haven't failed," Reid said.

When Selene's eyes fixed on him, he licked his lips, clenching his hands behind his back. The nervous tension was almost unbearable.

"We haven't failed," he spoke, louder this time. "And you haven't won. Not yet. And you won't. People like you _won't_ win. Not as long as there are good people willing to do something about it. You'll lose. And you won't just lose. You'll be forgotten. People won't even know your name."

" _No!"_ Selene shrieked. She whipped around, striking Reid's cheek with the gun.

It made contact with a sickening _crack!_

"We won't be forgotten!" She raised the gun again.

"No!" Garcia gasped. She lunged forward,catching Selene's arm.

The movement had been automatic.

She hadn't even thought of the consequences.

Selene stared at her, practically bristling with rage.

She was panting, her shoulders heaving, as she glared at the two of them.

"We won't be forgotten. Don't you see? We're going to be remembered! We're going to live forever!"

 _Live forever?_

Garcia watched her, speechless.

She sounded less like the dangerous woman she had come to expect and more like a spoiled child.

"So don't you ever question me again!"

Tossing her head, she turned around and marched up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Wha- wait, you can't just… !" Garcia called after her.

She climbed unsteadily to her feet and darted after her.

The door slammed shut with enough force that it rattled the walls.

"No!" Garcia gasped, hurrying up the stairs.

She tried the door.

The knob turned only part way.

It was locked.

"No!" She clenched her teeth, resting her head against the door. "No, no, no!"

Couldn't things for _once_ be in their favor?

Of course it would be locked.

For a moment, she had the urge to kick the door, like a toddler giving way to her temper.

She didn't give in.

Doing so would be pointless and counterproductive.

She'd hurt herself.

Selene would come back- and who knew what she would do this time.

 _This time._

Garcia remembered the blow Reid had suffered and spun around, hurrying back down the steps.

"Reid!"

He was breathing hard, chin lowered almost to his chest.

The blow had split open his cheek.

Already there was blood.

"I'm okay," he said, voice strained.

"No," Garcia choked out. "No, it's not okay. It's not okay what that… that bitch is doing."

She grasped a portion of her shirt, hesitated a moment, and then tore.

Nothing happened.

She tried again.

"Damn it!" she cursed. "Why does this look easier when it's done on TV?"

"That's… how it usually is," Reid said.

In spite of herself, Garcia nearly smiled.

"Hold on," she said, stepping forward. "This might hurt a little."

She couldn't tear a piece of her shirt, but she could still use it to clean the blood of his face.

She used her sleeve, wiping as gently as she could.

Still, Reid winced, ducking his head away with a hiss.

"Sorry." Garcia pulled back with a grimace.

"You know… the chance of infection is…"

"Reid," Garcia interrupted desperately. "Please. I can't…"

Reid fell silent. Then, "Sorry." He coughed.

"I can untie you," Garcia said. "Or try to." This time, she forced a smile. "Then we can see about a real hug."

"You can have as many of those as you want," Reid joked weakly with a half-hearted smile. "I've already looked, though; she removed everything sharp before the park episode. I watched her do it. I mean, unless you want to gnaw it off with your teeth…"

"I'll pass," Garcia said, making a face.

Reid and Garcia stared at each other for a moment.

"I missed you, y'know," she said, her voice breaking.

Reid smiled wanly. "I missed you too."

There was another awkward silence, as if they weren't sure what to do with themselves. This was the first time that they had truly had any modicum of control since they had each been kidnapped.

"What do we now?" Garcia asked hesitantly.

"I guess… we wait," Reid said with a soft sigh.

He looked defeated.

"No, I won't accept that. We have the high ground for once and she doesn't even know it. She's left us together. We _cannot_ let it go to waste. So your Wonder Boy brain had better start coming up with something, or else!"

He smiled at her again, this time with just a little more strength.

All of the sudden, a light dawned in his eyes.

"Wait a second," he started, growing more and more excited by the second. "Okay, this might be stupid, but it's an idea," he began.

"Now that's more like it!" Garcia laughed, paying eager attention to Reid as he began to outline his plan.

* * *

"Uh… sir?" A young agent poked his head through the door. He looked like a rookie, fresh out of the academy. His eyes as they roved over the team were uncertain.

In his hand, he clutched several files in a death grip.

"What is it?" Hotchner directed his attention to the young man.

"There's been a, uh," the young man tugged at his shirt collar, "Penelope Garcia's car has been reported found… sir."

JJ shot to her feet. "Where?"

Morgan frowned. "Already?" He turned to the unit chief. "Hotch, doesn't it strike you as a little strange that they found it _already?"_

Hotch's expression was grim. He didn't seem to like it anymore than Morgan did. "What are you suggesting?" he asked.

JJ was fidgeting with her hands. "Do you think it might be some sort of trap?"

Before Hotch could answer, Gideon spoke up. "No."

"You mean she might have gotten careless," Emily guessed.

"That's exactly what I mean." Gideon leaned back in his chair. "She has what she came for. So she's satisfied. But she failed in the last part of her mission." He looked at JJ meaningfully.

JJ bit her lip.

"So she's angry," Morgan concluded, understanding dawning in his voice. "She gets careless. She makes a mistake."

Gideon dipped his head. "Precisely."

"And that mistake might be what helps us find Garcia and Reid," Hotch added.

* * *

"We have a name." JJ sounded a little stunned. "Selene Westerly."

"And where is she?" Morgan demanded. "Tell me you have an address."

"That's the thing," JJ said. "Selene dropped off the radar ten years ago."


End file.
